[blparent] Why Chinese Mothers are Superior

[Stephanie Mitchell]

You're kidding! How so? That was bad enough.
I'm surprised those kids don't have psychological issues.
Steph


 ----- Original Message -----
From: "Tammy" <tcl189 at rogers.com
To: "NFBnet Blind Parents Mailing List" <blparent at nfbnet.org
Date sent: Sun, 5 Feb 2012 23:30:57 -0500
Subject: Re: [blparent] Why Chinese Mothers are Superior

Hi,

Wow, what a horrifying piece this one is!  I couldn't agree with 
you more!
And just so you know, Japanese parents are worse if you can 
imagine it!

Tammy

-----Original Message-----
From: Jo Elizabeth Pinto
Sent: Sunday, February 05, 2012 6:37 PM
To: NFBnet Blind Parents Mailing List
Subject: [blparent] Why Chinese Mothers are Superior

For any who are interested, here's the article that came before 
the piece
about French parents.  If the French article was annoying to me, 
this one is
horrifying.  If this is what it takes to raise a child who is a 
musical
prodigy or an academic whiz, I'll settle for something less.


Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior
by Amy Chua

Can a regimen of no playdates, no TV, no computer games and hours 
of music
practice create happy kids? And what happens when they fight 
back?

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.


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.

When it comes to parenting, the Chinese seem to produce children 
who display
academic excellence, musical mastery and professional success - 
or so the
stereotype

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.

-Amy Chua is a professor at Yale Law School and author of "Day of 
Empire"
and "World on Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy Breeds 
Ethnic Hatred
and Global Instability." This essay is excerpted from "Battle 
Hymn of the
Tiger Mother" by Amy Chua, to be published Tuesday by the Penguin 
Press, a
member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.  Copyright © 2011 by Amy Chua.


Jo Elizabeth

"How far you go in life depends on you being tender with the 
young,
compassionate with the aged, sympathetic with the striving, and 
tolerant of
the weak and the strong.  Because someday in life you will have 
been all of
these."--George Washington Carver, 1864-1943, American scientist
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