kismetism

(note: yes, this is part II, because part I was written almost as a gut reaction to the piece… which was mostly just confusion and turmoil and not worth reading anyway. after stewing on it for twenty-four hours and reading the follow-up, I think I am now in a much better position to reply coherently. so here it is.)

First of all, thank you Wall Street Journal for deliberately choosing a controversial title for the article to intentionally rile up readers. This is, obviously, what “good journalism” is all about after all… to color the upcoming excerpt in a negative light and get thousands of readers upset and inviting angry comments and even more worthless trolls that would have been less likely to happen if you had not LIED about the author’s original intention. Bastards.

For those of you who are uninformed of this “foofaraw” (Lloyd’s word), here’re the relevant links. (I didn’t post this as a link post because I wanted to make sure people read the follow-up and not just the original article.)

• The original article: Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior. This essay is an EXCERPT from the author’s upcoming book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, something that is only printed in easy-to-ignore italicized text at the end of the piece. (more “good journalism” there.)
• The follow-up: The Tiger Mother Responds to Readers. Where the author clarifies that her book is more of a memoir of her experiences with strict parenting and how her position has changed.
• CNN weighs in: Chinese moms vs. Western moms: Is there a mother superior?. Has a decent video interview, too.

When all is said and done, I honestly believe that Amy Chua is completely well-intentioned and just trying to understand why the marked differences between certain child-rearing strategies exist. She acknowledges that there is no single formula for all children, but points out that there are definitely “quantifiable differences” in the way the two cultures approach it. (She has statistics, even.) Again, I deeply resent WSJ’s interference with what should have been an open-minded and self-reflective piece, not a shitstorm.

That said, I’ve attempted to catalog my thoughts into several different categories and will go through them as systematically as possible. Sometimes I agreed with Amy, and sometimes I didn’t. Sometimes I agreed with comments, and sometimes I didn’t. As a result, the following is going to be a mishmash of opinion and reflection and introspection. Since this is a topic I am very close to and feel very strongly about, it’s going to be a long read, so I hope you’re comfortable!

“Fun” Work

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.

This is, I think, for the most part, true. There is no better explanation for why I hate math; it’s because I suck at it. And if I had listened to my dad and practiced the basics until they were solid, then practiced more advanced stuff until it was solid, then… etc. I genuinely believe that I wouldn’t suck (and therefore, hate) math so much. Alas.

However, I don’t think it’s always true. I think there are certainly times, especially later in life, when a person can develop an interest in some skill and pursue it and suck at it and still find it fun enough to continue trying. I also think it’s a little unfair to say Western parents “give up” here. Western parents try to find what their children are already naturally inclined to, so that this desire to pursue it regardless of early mistakes is what pushes the child forward, rather than the parents themselves.

The problem is when you’re trying to teach critical skills (i.e. math) that all children need to know and hate for whatever reason. It may be that a more disciplinarian approach is necessary. I could criticize the Western education system here, actually… the way math is taught is extremely dependent on the previous level and it proceeded too fast for me (or I just didn’t get enough homework in early stages). I probably should not have been in the advanced classes with my less-than-stellar understanding, but by then it’s too late.

But let’s try talking about something a little less critical… like, say, music. Why IS it that Chinese parents find it so fashionable to foist some sort of musical training on their children? (And why is it always piano or violin?) It’s not even parents who got the same treatment when they were children… my parents didn’t have any formal musical training, yet they started me on piano when I was four. Wat? This must have something to do with growing up and appreciating music in ways that you can’t when you’re a child. Both parents who have had forced musical educations end up being grateful for the skill “later”… and parents who went without end up wishing they had someone to force them to learn it when it was easy.

I got lucky. Or… maybe it was my PARENTS got lucky. I hated learning piano and after x years of learning docilely, I started to fight back. No amount of shame at my piano lessons (and trust me, I did feel a lot of it) would make me want to practice when I got home. But then they found an article for the San Francisco Girls Chorus in the paper. And maybe they thought something like, hey, it’s like Girl Scouts, only for music! I must have already shown some inclination towards singing for them to bring me in for an audition, and the rest is history.

You see? They found me an expression of music that I enjoyed and I did the rest. They never had to ask me to practice my music, because I took care of it on my own. The threat of doing poorly in rep(ertoire) checks meant enough to me, ME personally, that I took my own rehearsal in hand. (They were less pleased later on when Girls Chorus started to interfere with school attendance, but oh well. >_> )

At the same time, now (at the tender age of 26, lol) I can also admit that I was grateful for the piano lessons, even though I’ve let my skills atrophy so much that it’s probably like I had six years instead of twelve. Just yesterday I was playing scales for the hell of it and promising myself that when I’m more settled, I can commit to something like learning a new song every month. Another resolution to add to the pile.

Conclusion? Hell if I know. Sometimes critical skills are not fun and require more rigid discipline. Sometimes, to get children the skills that you wish they would develop, you can find an acceptable alternative to the “traditional” paths.

There are, of course, the times when even things you are very good at stop being fun, something that Chua kind of ignored. Because just garnering compliments is not enough for true enjoyment. Or maybe when you have fun things to do AS your work… and then they become these weird hybrid activities that are fun when someone’s not paying you. But I guess that’s another topic altogether.

(Or maybe it’s just later in her book. Surely at 13, her daughter was probably pretty good at violin, but still wanted to quit?)

Building Self-Esteem

Confidence in myself and my abilities is definitely something I grapple with regularly, but I don’t think it’s to any extent that is particularly unnatural.

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 … 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.

This is, I think, a rather interesting observation / viewpoint, that Chinese parents view their children as strong, thus it’s “okay” to be somewhat verbally abusive, whereas Western parents view their children as “fragile” and are therefore more careful with their words. It’s even more interesting when I consider how strong friendships are sometimes heaped with verbal barbs between one another, whereas fragile (or new) friendships are rarely threatened thus.

But Chinese children are rarely “friends” with their parents, even as adults, while I think Western parents often show a higher success rate of being on more friendly terms with their children after they’re grown. Does this mean a Western child-parent relationship is viewed as a tentative friendship that must be grown into something stronger? Does it mean a Chinese child-parent relationship is viewed as inviolable?

Hmm.

In the end, I think that building up a child’s self-esteem can only be assured with more parental involvement. A Chinese parent who scolds and then doesn’t invest themselves personally is not really any better than a Western parent who says “it’s cool” and lets it slide. If the parents don’t invest themselves in their children, then I think it’s more likely that the child will grow up feeling like they are not worth anyone’s time.

I also think it’s very important that “failure” be handled cautiously, while being mindful of possible repercussions. Everyone has off days, but it’s no excuse for being lazy. At the same time, it is absolutely not healthy to cement the idea that failure is equated with great shame. Mistakes are a fact of life and they can be OVERCOME. Perfection is one enormous fabrication; just look at evolution if you want the ultimate model of trial and error. Yes, some mistakes are worse than others, but in academics? Bite me.

Also…

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.”

Um, yeah, no it’s not. I am exceptionally sensitive about my weight and body appearance and I know exactly who to “thank” for that.

Obligation to Parents

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 … Anyway, the understanding is that Chinese children must spend their lives repaying their parents by obeying them and making them proud.

This is definitely true. :P Personally, though, I hold the opinion that Chua’s husband did/does.

“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.”

Having said that, I do feel an everlasting debt to my parents and intend to see it through. I often joke that their money is my money. But when I’m finally independent (not TOO long from now, hopefully), the reverse will be true. I don’t exactly resent this obligation… I merely accept that it is there, that I feel it, and that I would be deeply ashamed of myself if I am unable to care for them in return. How can you really hate something that has developed because of the things two people have done for you because they love you?

But I wouldn’t have my own kids and expect this to be true.

Social Interaction

Chua never specifically talks about a “lack” of social interaction, but it was a big talking point for the commenters who were against her particular mode of parenting. Here’s one.

I have had the pleasure of managing and working with many asian american friends who have come from a similarly high pressure/high achievement oriented childhood. While most of them were wonderful, smart and ambitious they all — all of them — lacked a broader sense of perspective, empathetic humility and true leadership qualities. In other words, they were socially incomplete and, somehow, not fully developed as people.

I wasn’t allowed to go to sleepovers until I was in middle school (hi, Kim!). Even Chorus summer camp was off-limits or shortened. In elementary school, I very occasionally went to friends’ houses for birthday parties. I had all the early trappings of a traditional Chinese parent-child relationship.

Except, well, they let me go onto the computer. Where I had AOL and role-play. And boy did my dad regret that sometimes. (hi, charge-per-hour internet!) Who knows how that early exposure to a creative writing chatroom, changed my eventual social trajectory? It certainly gave me the perspective that online interaction could be as worthwhile as face to face interaction, which is a value I hold near and dear to my heart.

Maybe this was a saving grace that allowed me to connect with people, albeit in a limited fashion. My parents always warned me, of course, not to share real information… cause of all the stalkers, you know. I uh… generally obeyed this. :x

Things changed a little when I hit middle school and met The Girls. Suddenly I was going to sleepovers and holding my own! But I definitely remember some tension when I took AIC at ATDP and started developing new connections there that my parents were less than pleased to have me pursue, at the expense of studying for SATs. By then it was too late, really… I was addicted to the gratification that you can only get from having fun with friends and wouldn’t hear a word in edgewise.

Would I be socially stunted if I didn’t originally have the internet and if I hadn’t found friends to hang out with at lunch? It’s hard to say. Part of me thinks no, but another part thinks about my friends in elementary school and that alien feeling I got whenever I attended those birthday parties. I don’t regret not being allowed to stay the night at said parties, but maybe this was because I just wasn’t socially adjusted that young… at least, not in person. I had only two friends from school, neither of whom I had very much in common with, and only interacted with other children on a regular basis when my mother was friends’ with their mother.

At any rate, I recognize that my particular growing circumstances were relatively unique. And though I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I won’t deny that maybe it could have gone very wrong if some things hadn’t gone very right.

Wow, okay, I am finally done. I think I’ve come a long way from our original “Asian Parents foofaraw” about eight years ago, don’t you think?