Policia de Catalunya

Erin Patrice O'Brien for The Wall Street Journal
Amy Chua has penned an essay for the Wall Street Journal entitled, "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior." Following a bullet point list of things not to let your children do (sleepovers, playdates, school plays, TV or computer games), she notes three ways Chinese parents approach parenting differently from Westerners. To sum it up, Chinese parents assume, expect and demand excellence in their children.
Here are some snippets:
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.
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.
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.Before you get too up in arms, it's only fair to acknowledge the vast cultural differences between the U.S. and China. And the political ones, like, say, democracy vs. communism. A child in the U.S. who had no social skills would not get far in business or team sports, generally speaking. He'd have to be a violin prodigy, or dictator . . . or something. In China, it seems, achievement is the goal; individualism, not so much.
She's perched on a pretty high horse, most of the time, but still, there is merit in much of Ms. Chua's advice. For instance, children do waste hours on computers and TV. And there's certainly too much "self esteem" building going on -- at least in my school (and too many professionally made science projects, for that matter).
When I hear a mother say, "tsk, tsk, that's a bad choice," as the child proceeds on to do the misdeed, I'm the first to smirk. And I cannot and will not muster an exuberant "wow" to a mundane Lego creation. Chua is right that praise for a mediocre performance can be the worst kind of white lie.
She also suggests that a child's academic performance reflects directly on the parent, and here I must part company. Though I struggle now for an example to prove my point. Truth be told, my son does much better in school when I drill him in multiplication and, frankly, the time spent in misery seems worth it, to him and to me.
I think it is her overall tone of superiority that bothers me, rather than her content, captured in statements like,
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.That's pretty harsh. But with China nipping at our heels, perhaps we'd all do well to be a little more Chinese.

Labels: Amy Chua, Chinese Mothers, Parenting, Superior Moms

Ever wonder what makes a good lawyer? Behold, it is your little one, the super lawyer in the car seat. Kids come armed with the skills of a trained litigator, trial lawyers already, growing in the womb.
Instinctively expert at forum shopping, manipulation, and debate, they could bloody F. Lee Bailey in the backyard wading pool long before they're eight. Masterful negotiators, stern and forceful promulgators (DO NOT ETER THIS ROOM UNLESS YOU KNOCK FIST), they come equipped with elephant memories and perfectly callibrated bull sh-t meters.
As adults we loom large, the inevitable and unwitting targets of these formidable foes. Even the most stalwart of parents will disintegrate in a face-off with these verbal warriors. "Alright, G-damn it. Go have a sugar coma. Eat the effing cookie." But be forewarned: this Perry Mason moment is kiddie catnip to a child. He will be thrust into an endless, frantic spiral, compelled to pursue countless more victories with the tenacity of a crack addict.
So when your little one arrives, it's time to get down and lawyered up. Here, a brief tutorial of what to expect.
* Forum shopping: Which parent (or third party) is most likely to give the kid what he wants? Mr. M is a champion forum shopper. As in, "Hmm. Hmm. I would like a Sprite. Who best to prey upon, at this moment? Is it Mom? The waiter? (as I exit for the bathroom) Yes, the waiter. I'll ask him for a Sprite right now." (See also shuttle diplomacy, as in "Dad, Mom said I can't have any chocolate milk, but I know you'll say yes since I haven't had any sugar all day.")
* Cross-examination: kids just know how many times and in how many ways they must ask the question to get the desired answer. Mr. M: "But you just said you wanted me to be happy on my first day of school. Are you now saying I CANNOT have this new lunch box? Have you lost your mind? Have you already forgotten what you said?" (See also, framing the issue)
* Framing the issue: You can get the answer you want to any question, so long as you ask the right question. Mr. M: "Mom, do you want me to be the happiest kid there is?" (Me, like Charlie Brown's teacher: wonk wonk wonk) "Okay. You're the one who said it. I get to wear my Spiderman suit every day for the first week of school. It's all settled then." (Me: wonk wonk WONK!) They also try their luck at framing the answer. Me: "Why are these dirty clothes on the floor next to the hamper?!" Mr. M: "I aimed wrong."
Then there is the ubiquitous, "Okaaaay . . . I'll take that as a yes," when you are on the phone, doing the Heimlich on your neighbor, or are otherwise engaged. And when all else fails for the child litigator, you will often hear, "That's your final answer! And today is opposite day!"
* Manipulation: "Thanks, Mom. You're the BEST! I love you, mom. Oh, mom, I love you so so much."
Caveat: over time, this technique becomes progressively more layered (though still readily apparent). Nausea is a sure sign that you are being victimized. It will feel like Eddie Haskell has just beamed himself into your living room and now occupies your child. "Mom, I just want you to enjoy that nice hot bath. Don't worry about a thing. After I clean my room I am going to eat all of my green beans. I really like vegetables. Thanks for making them for me. I love you. After my green beans can I have some ice cream, before I brush my teeth?"
A favorite example, from my friend Cate: Daughter: "Mom, can I-" Cate: "No. Now finish up." Daughter: "Uh, Mom! I wasn't going to ask you if I could stop eating my broccoli. I was ONLY going to ask you if I could have some soy sauce on it!! Gah!"
* Negotiation: "how many more bites do I have to eat? What if I don't? If I only eat six more bites of spinach can I still have a fig newton? What if I drink a V8 instead of eating my spinach? What if I don't eat any spinach but I drink TWO V8s tomorrow?"
* A pioneering-like self-confidence and delusional sense of invincibility: Though there are numerous examples, a few come instantly to mind. "I already knew that, mom. I know how to do that! I CAN DO IT MYSELF. You don't have to show me. Lifting a car is easy. I can run faster than that."
* Relentless, unyielding debate: As in:
Mr. M: But why do we have to go home now, mom? We can stay in this beach house for as long we want.
Me: Uh, no, we can't. There are new people coming next week and the owner will throw us out.
M: Well, we can just refuse to leave when the new people come.
Me: Yeah, we could try that, but then the owner will call the police and we'll be charged with criminal trespass.
M: So what?
Me: The police will show up at the door and take us both to jail. That's what.
M: Okay. If the police show up we can just lock the door and if they try to break it down, I'll just put my Incredibles shoulder up to the door and stop them.
Me: Uh, Mr. M, those guys have tear gas. And then it's all over, my little four-leaf clover.
M: Well then . . . well then, I'd just kill 'em.
Me: But if you killed the police, you'd be convicted of capital murder. And when you were sent away to prison for life I'd be sad. Plus you'd miss our trip to the beach next year. And anyway, how would we live without food and stuff?
M: But we wouldn't run out of food because I'd just rob a grocery store. And if the grocery store man tried to catch me, I'd run super-fast and jump over all the buildings and throw a car on him. And . . . and they couldn't convict me for life imprisonment, mom, because I'd just escape. And then I'd make myself so small they could never find me . . .
There's no winning against these little lawyers, you see.
In fact the only thing a kid comes without is subtlety. It is slowly acquired, and even then, comes only after years of practice. Back when they were little, guileless and confessional, you knew where you stood. Mr. M would stagger over to me, breathless in his diapers, look me right in the eye, and say, "Hi. I wasn't trying to unlock the front door and go outside. And I didn't break the eggs on the kitchen floor."
He's a bit more sophisticated these days, but only just a little. Reminds me of our dinner at another couple's house a few weeks ago. After the children had finished eating and were upstairs playing, it was time for the grown-ups to have dinner. After four sips of wine and three bites of soup, Mr. M appeared at my side in cherubic form. "Hi, mom -- just wanted to let you know you don't need to come check on us. So . . . . are you going to come check on us?" A few minutes later, he was back at the table again. "Hi. We are all fine upstairs. We're watching a movie and behaving, so don't come check on us."
Nodding, I let this neon, glaring give-away go seemingly over my head. I let enough time pass to set him up neat, then bolted up the stairs silently in my stockinged feet. This vignette needs no ending for parents, of course. We have to take them by surprise; they leave us no choice.

Labels: Boys, Manipulation, Motherhood, Parenting