The dark side of 'Tiger' parenting

We are a nation of wusses, according to Pennsylvania's departing Governor Ed Rendell, who is convinced that the Chinese would never cancel a football game due to a mere snowstorm. In Rendell's estimation, our Asian brothers and sisters would walk through the snow, performing calculus along the way.

Of course they would; they have Tiger Mothers. Thank goodness for Amy Chua's memoir, which will enable Americans to learn the secrets of endless hard work and relentless perfectionism that would have prevented Sunday night football from happening on a Thursday.

Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is getting plenty of press because Chua's methods are extreme. Her two daughters, Sophia and Lulu, weren't allowed to watch TV or have play dates, sleepovers or computer games. Instead they had to work at academics and practice the instruments chosen for them— piano and violin, respectively— for three hours a day, every day (including holidays).

Rejected birthday card

The only activities Chua permits are those that can yield a medal of some sort, and A-minus is a bad grade. When seven year-old Lulu gave Chua a handmade birthday card that wasn't up to standard, Chua rejected it. When Sophia was struggling with a piano piece, her mother threatened to throw away her beloved dollhouse (hmm— she had a dollhouse? Was she allowed to play with it?) piece by piece unless Sophia could solve the technical problem in one day.

The result? Sophia performed at Carnegie Hall at age 14, and has straight A's in school. Lulu apparently also excels, although she has traded in some of her violin practice for tennis. Which is OK, I'd expect, since you can win medals playing it.

It's easy to criticize Chua, but if we're honest, we must admit that she's right about some things. You can't excel unless you work hard, and excellence is its own reward. Chua notes that her methods aren't restricted to the Chinese, as I can attest from personal experience.

My family, by contrast

I grew up in Canada in a family of Jamaican/Bermudian immigrant parentage where we, too, were expected to do well. We watched TV and played with friends, but all of us learned piano (as well as a second instrument, if we asked for it). This wasn't something we disliked, mind you, but we weren't given a choice.

We also knew we were going to play those instruments at least ten years, in the case of the secondary ones, or until we got an associate degree in the Royal Conservatory of Music or the Western Board exams. My mother gave us summers off to compete on the swim team and dream if we wanted to— we shot a lot of super-8 movies during that time. In any case, low grades were frowned on heavily.

The result? All of us excelled in school. Although I hated math, I had a 98% average in twelfth grade, and 93% in calculus. (I never took a math class again, however.) It didn't matter that I disliked it— I wanted to do well because I could, and whatever was necessary was what I would do.

Limits of talent

Now that I'm a concert pianist, this same philosophy keeps me practicing the piano for hours instead of taking much leisure time. I don't particularly like to practice, but I do like playing to the best of my ability. Of course, it helps that playing well means I get paid. But the principle remains: being good at something is rewarding, and talent gets you only so far.

Why do Americans shy away from this reality? I think it's because this society shies away from many unpleasant realities. Every popular movie must have a happy ending. We can't teach classic literature, like Huckleberry Finn, unless we dumb down the racism of the era in which it was written. I hear that there's talk in Tennessee about removing slavery from the history books. Rhonda Byrne's self-help book, The Secret, was a great success because people want to believe that, with a little magical thinking, all their dreams can come true.

To be sure, having a dream precedes making that dream a reality. And positive thinking will produce better results than negative thinking. But there's a difference between optimism and living in an alternate universe.

Would you buy a Chinese toy?

On the other hand, I would never raise my kids the way Chua raised hers. If your sense of worth is completely bound up in getting a medal and being the best at everything, you're skating on very thin ice. For one thing, no one will be Number One for very long. For another, as my daughter told me when I described the Tiger Mother way, "People need people."

I'd be curious to see if Sophia and Lulu are as harsh with their own children, if they have any. Even in China, the perfectionism that Chua seems to imply as the norm is crumbling. When you buy a Chinese toy these days, do you think of craftsmanship or wonder if it contains toxic chemicals?

I read recently that Asia's younger generations are becoming less dedicated to working long hours, and more interested in the pursuit of leisure. Maybe they're becoming like us. The day may not be far distant when, even in China, sports events will be canceled for bad weather.♦


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