“If you’re gonna play, then play sitting in front of your desk.”
When I was in elementary school, it was routine for my younger brother and me to go to our local public library and “play” there until my mother finished her shift at work. She would promptly pick us up everyday at 4:30pm and jet us straight to swim practice at the YMCA. But after swimming, there was always something else:
Sensationalized through Amy Chua’s book, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” the term "Tiger Mom" is ubiquitous with an Asian style of parenting aimed at hard-driving children to achieve high academic success. The jury is still out —no one can definitely put it to sleep and say that Amy Chua is right or wrong.
We have so much data on so many random human behaviors yet we still don’t have enough data to know, with absolute confidence, the best practices for raising a child to be on the “gifted and talented” track. It’s a tip of the hat to nurture that a gifted and talented child can come from any set of parents. The father doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist and the mother doesn’t have to be a Fortune 500 executive.
I recently enjoyed listening to a group of first generation Asian-American parents in Irvine, California share their Tiger Mom battle scars—they collectively believed “gifted and talented” children are made, not born. Despite the blatant harshness, there’s something inspirational about their tough-love and unapologetic determination to push their children to achieve, what they believe in their heart of hearts, is the best outcome for their kids. Most of these parents are successful entrepreneurs who launched their small-business by saving what little cash they earned from a minimum wage job. Their American dream, however, isn’t to go from rags to riches; their American dream is to get their children into Harvard and raise them to become doctors, lawyers, or engineers. They will gladly sacrifice their own meals as well as their child’s immediate gratification in exchange for better education.
How do you compete against such determination? It’s not just Tiger Moms in the US anymore. Hundreds of thousands of parents, for example, in China are also singularly focused on achieving this “American dream”. Gone are the good old days when applying to college was simply about finding the right fit. Today’s competition is fierce (see here). US High school graduates are having to strategize and compete against not just their peers from school, but also kids from Shanghai to Berlin (see here).
So how do we resist not becoming a Tiger Mom? In some ways, we don’t want to be tiger parents; in other ways we do. If there’s a correct recipe for best fostering your child’s academic gifts and talents, then what is it?
Both the urge to “protect at all cost” (a.k.a. Helicopter Parenting) and to raise my child to “learn through experience” (a.k.a. Free-range Parenting) are relatable desires shared by all good parents. No one wants or thinks to be in either extremes; everyone wants or thinks to be in the golden middle.
Tiger Moms believe that pushing and driving their children into the “best” college is their duty as good parents. A child’s job is to faithfully study hard, fulfill the mission and get admitted. Everyone’s role playing ends when that acceptance letter arrives.
Helicopter Parenting is more about protecting and coddling, and less about demanding and pressuring for good grades and test scores. A Helicopter Parent can think that Tiger Moms are abusive, whereas a Tiger Mom can think that Helicopter Parents are weak minded.
Free-Range Parenting is a reaction to modern day over-parenting. A Free-Range Parent can think that both the Helicopter Parents and Tiger Moms are too controlling, whereas a Tiger Mom or a Helicopter Parent can view Free-Range Parents as irresponsible.
The problem with all this labeling is that it oversimplifies and vilifies. Let’s face it, we can all improve as parents and we can all relate to each of the three parenting styles. Each style stems from wanting the best for our children.
It’s my birthday this week. As I reflect on the last 37-years of my life, I realize that now, for the first time ever, I have officially lived longer (by exactly one more year) away from my parents’ home. Since I went off to college at age 18, I never returned to live at my parents’ home.
I am what pop culture likes to label as a millennial. But I retort and insist that I’m part of the Oregon Trail Generation (or Xennial) (see here and here). No one likes to be labeled—parents, younger generations, and students alike.
I called my mom this morning to thank her. It’s a tradition that my (now) Toothless Tiger Mom has instilled in all three of her sons, since we were teenagers—to thank her for having gone through so much physical pain to give birth. There were times when I used to roll my eyes at this.
But so much has changed about me. I’m “older and wiser”. What my Tiger Mom has instituted is beautiful. As I embark on parenthood, I not so secretly desire to continue this tradition.
After thanking her, I asked my mom her philosophy on education and child-rearing. “Start with a tight circle boundary, and then slowly widen the circle until it covers the globe.”
So profound. It makes sense in a Kung-fu Panda way.
“I did a good job?” My mom’s rhetorical question makes me smile.
“Yes. You did a great job. I hope to be a great parent like you.”
When I was in elementary school, it was routine for my younger brother and me to go to our local public library and “play” there until my mother finished her shift at work. She would promptly pick us up everyday at 4:30pm and jet us straight to swim practice at the YMCA. But after swimming, there was always something else:
- Monday was drilling math at Eye Level;
- Tuesday was English with Sharon (a local English tutor);
- Wednesday was piano lessons;
- Thursday was advanced math with Dad (he was a math tutor);
- Friday was church;
- Saturday was for Korean school and Tae Kwon Do; and
- Sunday was church again.
To be or not to be a Tiger Mom?
It’s a question that my brothers and an entire generation of Tiger Cubs (= offsprings of Tiger Moms) are asking ourselves as we begin parenthood.
Sensationalized through Amy Chua’s book, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” the term "Tiger Mom" is ubiquitous with an Asian style of parenting aimed at hard-driving children to achieve high academic success. The jury is still out —no one can definitely put it to sleep and say that Amy Chua is right or wrong.
We have so much data on so many random human behaviors yet we still don’t have enough data to know, with absolute confidence, the best practices for raising a child to be on the “gifted and talented” track. It’s a tip of the hat to nurture that a gifted and talented child can come from any set of parents. The father doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist and the mother doesn’t have to be a Fortune 500 executive.
I recently enjoyed listening to a group of first generation Asian-American parents in Irvine, California share their Tiger Mom battle scars—they collectively believed “gifted and talented” children are made, not born. Despite the blatant harshness, there’s something inspirational about their tough-love and unapologetic determination to push their children to achieve, what they believe in their heart of hearts, is the best outcome for their kids. Most of these parents are successful entrepreneurs who launched their small-business by saving what little cash they earned from a minimum wage job. Their American dream, however, isn’t to go from rags to riches; their American dream is to get their children into Harvard and raise them to become doctors, lawyers, or engineers. They will gladly sacrifice their own meals as well as their child’s immediate gratification in exchange for better education.
How do you compete against such determination? It’s not just Tiger Moms in the US anymore. Hundreds of thousands of parents, for example, in China are also singularly focused on achieving this “American dream”. Gone are the good old days when applying to college was simply about finding the right fit. Today’s competition is fierce (see here). US High school graduates are having to strategize and compete against not just their peers from school, but also kids from Shanghai to Berlin (see here).
So how do we resist not becoming a Tiger Mom? In some ways, we don’t want to be tiger parents; in other ways we do. If there’s a correct recipe for best fostering your child’s academic gifts and talents, then what is it?
Tiger vs Helicopter vs Free-Range Parenting
Both the urge to “protect at all cost” (a.k.a. Helicopter Parenting) and to raise my child to “learn through experience” (a.k.a. Free-range Parenting) are relatable desires shared by all good parents. No one wants or thinks to be in either extremes; everyone wants or thinks to be in the golden middle.
Tiger Moms believe that pushing and driving their children into the “best” college is their duty as good parents. A child’s job is to faithfully study hard, fulfill the mission and get admitted. Everyone’s role playing ends when that acceptance letter arrives.
Helicopter Parenting is more about protecting and coddling, and less about demanding and pressuring for good grades and test scores. A Helicopter Parent can think that Tiger Moms are abusive, whereas a Tiger Mom can think that Helicopter Parents are weak minded.
Free-Range Parenting is a reaction to modern day over-parenting. A Free-Range Parent can think that both the Helicopter Parents and Tiger Moms are too controlling, whereas a Tiger Mom or a Helicopter Parent can view Free-Range Parents as irresponsible.
My Toothless Tiger Mom
It’s my birthday this week. As I reflect on the last 37-years of my life, I realize that now, for the first time ever, I have officially lived longer (by exactly one more year) away from my parents’ home. Since I went off to college at age 18, I never returned to live at my parents’ home.
I am what pop culture likes to label as a millennial. But I retort and insist that I’m part of the Oregon Trail Generation (or Xennial) (see here and here). No one likes to be labeled—parents, younger generations, and students alike.
I called my mom this morning to thank her. It’s a tradition that my (now) Toothless Tiger Mom has instilled in all three of her sons, since we were teenagers—to thank her for having gone through so much physical pain to give birth. There were times when I used to roll my eyes at this.
But so much has changed about me. I’m “older and wiser”. What my Tiger Mom has instituted is beautiful. As I embark on parenthood, I not so secretly desire to continue this tradition.
After thanking her, I asked my mom her philosophy on education and child-rearing. “Start with a tight circle boundary, and then slowly widen the circle until it covers the globe.”
So profound. It makes sense in a Kung-fu Panda way.
“I did a good job?” My mom’s rhetorical question makes me smile.
“Yes. You did a great job. I hope to be a great parent like you.”
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