Much has been made recently of the rancor and inflammatory language coming from our political figures. Now add to that this week’s sensational Wall Street Journal article “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior” by Amy Chua. The subject is not politics but something closer to home for many—parenting.
Chua, a Yale law professor professing to be a child-rearing guru, fired the first salvo in this year’s parenting culture war by holding out herself as an expert in raising “stereotypically successful kids” with Chinese secrets such as never allowing her daughters to:
- attend a sleepover or a playdate
- be 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.
Chua related an incident in which she compelled her then-seven-year-old daughter into learning a piano piece by threatening her “with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years…” and telling her “to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.”
Some of what Chua described is reminiscent of my upbringing in a first-generation Asian immigrant family with parents who pushed my brother and me just as hard (if not harder) to succeed. So it is not Chua’s strict parenting style—with its questionable motivational tactics—or her demand for perfection that gave me the greatest pause. Nor is it her capitalizing on and fueling the stereotypes of the over-achieving Asian or the controlling Dragon Lady (aka “Tiger Mom,” the title Chua gave herself).
What I ultimately found disappointing about Chua’s approach is its narrowness. It reminds me of the ancient Chinese philosophy of legalism, which emphasizes order and conformity above all other concerns. Chua’s strict parenting style espouses the need—I would surmise, her need—to control every aspect of her children’s development. Individualism is discouraged. Perfection is the goal. Failure is seen as shameful.
The spectrum of students and parents whom my staff and I have advised ranges from scholarship students who are the first in their immigrant families to attend college, to families who for generations have attended Ivy League universities. Despite the diversity of their backgrounds and experiences, the majority of the students and parents I have come across share a common desire to succeed. That desire is not inherently Chinese or Western, but catalyzed by an upbringing and education that encourage and nurture a child’s imagination, creativity and passion. Certainly it is not born out of being called “garbage” by your parents—a term used by Chua’s father to admonish her, and a generation later, by Chua to admonish her older daughter.
As advisors and educators, we not only instill in our students the virtues of hard work and persistence, but also inspire them to explore beyond their potential and the limits of their experiences. We encourage our students to formulate goals beyond simply getting an A on an exam, obtaining a high SAT score or gaining acceptance to a selective university. We demand that they think expansively and critically about the world, their happiness and the meaning of success.
The narrowness of Chua’s parenting approach also implies a certain narrow view of success. It excels at producing a generation of able kids who are adept at jumping through hoops and conforming to rules—eventually reaching an office or cubicle at a law firm or a bank and, only then, starting to wonder whether the “success” was all worth it. It also inculcates a fear of failure. Far from being seen as opportunities to learn and grow, mistakes are seen as signs of weakness that go to the essence of the child who, as Chua pointed out, may be called “stupid,” “worthless” or “a disgrace.”
One way of judging the merits of Chua’s strict parenting approach is to examine an aspect of China’s education system: its singular focus on testing. In his book, “Catching Up or Leading the Way: American Education in the Age of Globalization,” Yong Zhao, a professor of education at Michigan State University, discusses why China and many Asian countries are actually reforming their education systems to be more like America’s. According to Zhao, from a very young age, Chinese children are deprived of the opportunity to do anything else so they can focus on getting good test scores. As a result, Chinese students often graduate with high scores but low ability. The negative impact of this narrow view of success and education was underscored by a McKinsey Quarterly study in which 44 percent of the executives at Chinese companies reported that insufficient Chinese talent was the biggest barrier to their global ambitions.
Here in the U.S., if Chua’s definition of success is obtaining a job in investment banking, law or management consulting, she should take a look at a recent study titled “Ivies, Extracurriculars, and Exclusion: Credentialism in Elite Labor Markets.” In it, Lauren Rivera, a professor at the Kellogg School of Management, found that while high-paying firms seek to hire graduates of prestigious universities, “they are using the status and intensity of a candidate’s leisure pursuits as a strong secondary screen.” The gatekeepers of high-paying employers have come to view certain types of extracurricular and leisure activities as “crucial badges of a candidate’s likeability [and] sociability.” In my experience interviewing job applicants and reviewing college and graduate school applications, an Asian candidate’s playing the piano or the violin, no matter how spectacular, does little to enhance her likeability and sociability.
Also lost in the narrowness of Chua’s strict parenting approach is an acknowledgement that no two children are alike and no single parenting approach, whether it is Chinese or Western, works for every child. While Chua is undoubtedly a parent with the best of intentions for her kids, her approach could use a dose of inspiration and humility, while offering more of the balanced and nuanced views one would expect from a law professor of her caliber. It was probably Chua’s goal to be provocative ahead of the release of her book. Sensationalism certainly sells books, but it does little to help kids or parents.
Adam Nguyen, a graduate of Columbia College and Harvard Law School, is the CEO & Founder of Ivy Link, a test preparation, tutoring and education advisory company.