Tiger Moms to Your Battle Stations

Ever since Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother came out, I've had a hold on it at the library. I was something like #350 in line. But fortunately, it's a fast read, and I got my hands on it this week. It's gotten so much buzz, everyone has an opinion whether they've read it or not. Anyone with an interest in parenting, books, or books on parenting has printed some kind of a rebuttal. There is much to rebut.

If this book was a birthday card, I would reject it; which is to say, I don't think this is her best work. As a law professor with two previously published scholarly books, I would expect even her memoir to include some kind of research. But no, it is strictly personal essay. She does not cite any statistics to support her impressions (which are widely shared) of generational decline in immigrant families or of the disproportionate success of Asian children in academics and classical music. This is unfortunate, because she has a few valid points that get lost in all the inflammatory stories.

Chua has been criticized for sounding insincere about her "conversion" to Western style parenting. She sounds proud of her hard-driving parenting even though she claims to have given it up. At the end of the book, she and her daughters have a conversation in which they agree that forcing perfection in music, Mandarin and academics was the right thing to do. The only thing Chua seems to have changed is her style. She's not so bitchy to her kids anymore. The change comes from realizing that obedience is not actually that Chinese (she attended the college of her choice instead of the one chosen by her father; her father left home for college and never went back, cutting himself off from his overbearing family forever). She also finally realizes her methods are not terribly effective. Throughout the book she sprinkles examples of occasions where her daughters are only able to perform when she is removed from the situation. Other, kinder people are able to draw more out of them than she is.

Since rebuttals are thick on the ground, I think I'll talk about what Chua gets right. She maintains her expectation that her daughters get perfect grades, study Mandarin and music. That doesn't seem so wrong to me. She and her husband are both Ivy League professors. Short of congenital defects, their daughters should perform to pretty high standards. They probably would even with Chua screaming herself hoarse at them every day. Which is what she finally figures out, and is supposedly what the book is about. When she defends her values (rather than her methods) she has a pretty good point.

Her point, and I think she is right, is that children are capable of more than we give them credit for. Her point, and I think she is right, is that parents need to prepare their children for the adult world, with a strong knowledge base and marketable skills. Her point, and I think she is right, is that effort, hard work and self control should be instilled at an early age because they are more important to success than talent and passion.

It's too bad her definition of success is so vague. For someone who claims to be comfortable being the bad guy, she seems to measure success more by prestige than by straightforward measures like financial security or happiness. Even when trying to defend the Tiger Mom, it's hard not to poke holes in her arguments. Chua relates several instances of her daughters doing exactly that in their arguments with her. The point is, Chua is not quite the bad guy everyone wants her to be. Nor is she the perfect Chinese mother she set out to be. Like the rest of us, she is a mom – trying her hardest and not always doing a very good job.