Eastern Parenting v. Western Parenting: A Throwdown

The Penguin Press, an imprint of the Penguin Group, has recently published a book entitled, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua. The book and author have been getting great publicity, including an excerpt in the Wall Street Journal. The WSJ decided to use this headline for the excerpt, "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior." Now, if you're a mother, like myself, you can't not click through to read this. What I read confounded me as a mother and a Westerner. I felt defensive. Who is this woman to tell me that she's a better mother than I am? I also felt intrigued. What parenting philosophy does she espouse and is it, in fact, superior to my own?

To be honest, I have not read the book. I fear it will incense me, but I do plan to read it. The excerpt got my wheels spinning and I'm grateful for the reflection it has inspired. I call this a throwdown, because Chua explicitly states that she meant the book to show how Chinese parenting is better than Western parenting. Competitive person that I am, I'd like to say -- No. The two styles are sure as hell different, but there's no right or wrong here. There are different choices. Here now is my first response to Ms. Chua's philosophies.

Here are some things Chua proudly never allowed her daughters to do:

• have a playdate

• be in a school play

• complain about not being in a school play

• not be the #1 student in every subject except gym and drama

• play any instrument other than the piano or violin

• not play the piano or violin

Like many Chinese parents, Chua values academic excellence. To accomplish the goals she set for her daughters, she was exacting and demanding. She didn't shy from insulting her daughters in order to motivate them to do better. She was happy to play bad cop to her American husband's laissez faire good cop. Chua sees three major differences between Chinese and American parenting.

1. "Western parents are extremely anxious about their children's self-esteem." (Chinese parents don't worry about this.)
2. "Chinese parents believe that their kids owe them everything."
3. "Chinese parents believe that they know what is best for their children and therefore override all of their children's own desires and preferences." (American parents care about individuality and letting kids find their own way.)

According to Chua, Chinese parents give their children skills, inner confidence and good work habits. American parents don't push their children and then spend their lives conflicted about their own lack of achievement. And we're perfectly content to let our kids turn out badly.

Here's my major beef with this philosophy -- where is the role of creative self-discovery? What is the definition of turning out badly? Why is there only one definition of success (i.e. being The Best)? Children have to learn to make choices for themselves -- how does one learn to do that when one is denied the chance?

Let's say my husband and I want Deston to play hockey (this is a true desire of Drew's, by the way). So we enroll Deston in skating lessons. We sacrifice our time to take him to all his practices and games. We drill him on the weekends (b/c his regular practice is not enough and if he's going to be The Best, he has to drill as much as possible). We chastise him when he fails to do well in a game and if he balks at practicing, we tell him that he's lazy and ungrateful. He says he doesn't want to play anymore. We tell him, "Too bad. This is what we decided for you." He grows up playing hockey and he's pretty good at it. He internalizes the harsh criticism we throw at him and feels his worth is based on how well he plays. As he grows older, he continues to play, but stops when he gets to college. Sometimes he'll skate for exercise. He tells people he played hockey when he was young. Maybe he also throws in a comment about how hard his parents rode him. He also experiences anxiety when he doesn't do something perfectly the first time, though he's not comfortable telling anyone this.

What is Deston's takeaway from this situation? That his parents made him play hockey and he was pretty good at it? No doubt he benefited from being on a team and the discipline involved. At best, he falls back on skating and hockey drills as a fun way to exercise. At worst, he can't watch NHL games because he has flashbacks to my angry face after he missed a goal. It's a parent's duty to communicate to her child in a way that benefits the child. If I sensed Deston didn't respond well to harsh criticism, I should change how I criticize him. Parenting is never one size fits all. It has to be modified to accommodate each individual child.

I could revise this scenario. Deston continues to play in college and makes it to the minor leagues. Our criticisms have fueled his desire to succeed. He gives himself similar personal pep talks. He's drafted to the NHL (which, if we were Chinese parents, would probably have been our goal all along). Who should be more satisfied with this outcome -- Deston or us, his parents? I believe that success as an adult comes from personal satisfaction with the state of your life. If Deston achieved our goals for him, but internally thought, "Why am I doing this?" I would feel like I failed him. Accepting less than perfection from my child does not make me a lazy parent who gave up. As painful as it is, everyone has to experience failure. To deny a child the chance to fail is to deny them the chance to deal with that inevitability. To teach them that only perfection is acceptable is to teach them a dangerous and potentially destructive lesson.


Chua asserts that what Chinese parents do to their children, they do out of love. They also, apparently, secretly believe that they care more for their children than Western parents do. I will concede that American children could benefit from more self-discipline and the Chinese style of parenting is better at achieving that. I also think, however, that parenting like a drill sergeant is alienating and stressful for parents and children. I don't find personal insults to be motivating, nor do I want my child to think that's an acceptable way to get what you want from someone.

At the moment, Deston attends a preschool that is primarily Chinese. This book, therefore, is timely in my life. He has an American and a Chinese teacher; both seem to lean toward the Chinese philosophy of child-rearing. For example, they are obsessed with the school district's Gifted program. The test is administered in February and Deston's class has been doing practice questions since the summer. His class of four and five-year-olds is learning addition and sight words (words like "an" and "the" that make early reading easier when memorized). I was under the impression that this was kindergarten or first-grade level work. The children are assigned homework every night of the work week, including non-religious holidays. The emphasis is clearly on academic excellence. For the most part, I'm pleased with this preschool. Deston will be prepared for all aspects of school. He's happy in the classroom and is an eager learner. I feel, however, that he needs all the play time I can provide for him when at home. His class gets play time in the morning and the evening, but the majority of the day is spent like a typical school day. It's been well-documented how vital play is to a child's development. Individual and social play is what makes us human. We learn how to live when we play. Providing Deston with time to play is as important (if not more) to his development as making him sit down and do his homework. Are these two things mutually exclusive? No. Will Deston learn that school is not important if he has a playdate on the weekend? No.Will he have an easier time adapting to the tough job of living if he gets to practice through play? Yes.

I wouldn't let Deston sacrifice good grades for an active social life, but I wouldn't deny him the chance to get involved in extracurricular activities and be with his friends just so he gets straight A's. If Deston has a passion for drama, I'll help him excel at that. If he'd rather be in math league, I'll be equally supportive. I find Chua's insistence on one kind of success to be classist. There are many parents out there who want just as much for their children, but don't have the money or the time off work to allow them to take the extreme steps Chua took. This formula of perfect grades, refined musical activity and ivy league education smacks of upper-class life. Maybe the janitor wants his son to play piano at Carnegie Hall but he can't afford the lessons, travel for competition and the instrument. It's elitist to say that because your daughter made it to Carnegie Hall, your parenting style is superior. Circumstances make a difference and not everyone lives on the same level.

I said in the beginning of this post that there is no right and wrong in this situation. I still believe this. I wouldn't raise my children like Chua raises her's, but I don't have to. Neither of us is obliged to agree with the other. Choice is both beautiful and divisive. Chua's opened herself to a lot of criticism by writing this book; I applaud her honesty. It's brave to put yourself out there like she has. I think there are aspects of her parenting philosophy that are beneficial; I might adopt some of them. I hope she has come to feel the same thing about Western parenting.

Some of the most fulfilling moments of my life have been spent in quiet self-reflection, practicing nothing other than being myself. Hippie that I am, I encourage daydreaming and occasionally wandering with no destination in mind. I will happily teach Deston to see the benefit in these activities.

Proud Westerner, over and out.