Ancient Chinese Secrets

I don’t know what people have against the self-proclaimed “Tiger Mom” who has written a book advocating her interpretation of the “Chinese method” of parenting, which, as I understand it, is a relentless rejection of joy. I suppose if I were Chinese I might have a problem with it, but for the rest of us it presents a wonderful opportunity for showing our children just how good they have it.

The Today Show segment came on just after I returned from taking my youngest daughter to school this morning. A fly on the windshield of my car would have assumed I am the devil incarnate, given my daughter’s dour expression and the complete and utter scorn with which she responded to my questions (which was a step up from the painful silence that met most of my inquiries). Her life is miserable, and I am, as always, a prime candidate for “bad mommy hell.” When the time comes. Thankfully she’s still too young to be placed in charge of my medical decisions should I end up in the hospital.

I was feeling pretty bad about myself until I listened to Tiger Mom defend her book and her methods. Stylish, beautiful, thin (of course), and accomplished (if you’d call an Ivy League professor accomplished), she readily and proudly confessed to the wok-load of things she has banned from her daughters’ lives: sleepovers, play dates of any kind, any grade less than an "A;" in sum, the essential elements of childhood. Not to mention self-esteem; she admits to having returned her daughter's hand crafted birthday card one year, deeming it grossly inadequate.

But even without any semblance of a "normal" American childhood, her daughters looked pretty happy in the pictures, and I have no reason to believe the photos were inauthentic. It got me to thinking that maybe I could wipe the scowl off my daughter's face this afternoon if I tell her that instead of vegging in front of the television watching old Friends episodes for three hours she would have to practice piano and study calculus. Who cares if she doesn't play the piano or take calculus -- the kid just needs to man up and grow a pair.

I guess it all comes down to what you want out of life, not just for yourself but for your kids. Professor Tiger Mom looks content, hell, downright smug, with her wildly successful and driven life. Her husband is mysteriously absent from the pictures and his opinion -- no doubt a product of indulgent white America -- of Chinese child rearing is noticeably irrelevant; my guess is he's so terrified of his wife he'll do whatever she says. He's too whipped to know any better, and the daughters will certainly grow up with lots of academic and professional success and lots of bragging rights. It sure beats failure.

Have I been wrong to tell my kids the opposite of what I learned (having been raised according to the tenets of the gritty first cousin of the Chinese method -- the Brooklyn Jewish mother method)? Are passion and personal fulfillment all a bunch of hooey? After all, what good are passion and personal fulfillment when everyone else doesn't view you with a touch of awe? When you are the only one who perceives the value of your own life? Pointless. And all the passion in the world won't pay the mortgage.

Eat, pray, love? That's for losers. Push, practice, persevere -- that's my new mantra. As soon as the snow clears, I'm going out to buy my daughter a cello.