Apotyphobia - [a-po-ti-fo-bee-a] - noun - the fear of failure (note: apparently the real word is atychiphobia)
Derived from the Greek words apotychia which means failure, and phobos which means fear, and I totally just made this word up. While the word may be something that I randomly pulled together, the concept certainly isn't something altogether foreign to us. My brother once told me that Asian children will grow up to be good at what they do but they'll never be geniuses. In the wake of the moderately controversial WSJ article by Yale professor, Amy Chua, some have attributed this to the fact that typical Asian parental methods leaves the children dispassionate and disinterested, where life is a series of duties and obligations. I would contend that the problem may lie in passion, as it's not unfeasible for someone to be brilliant at something he/she doesn't particularly like doing, but rather, apotyphobia.
I think to best illustrate I will use a personal example, hopefully, said example will not alienate too many of my readers. Growing up, I used to play a game called Bandit Kings of Ancient China, a turn-based strategy game based around the well-known Chinese story entitled Outlaws of the Marsh. The game involved building armies and attacking different territories, and ultimately you are attempting to take down the evil prime minister Gao Qiu before the year 1127 when the Northern Barbarians take over China, or something along those lines. Anyways, the point is, that when I played the game, I would always run into the time constraint, and I always wondered why. The simple reason is this: I never went to battle unless I was very sure I could win. While it meant that I could be very systematic in my battle strategies, it also meant that a lot of time passed to get to the level of comfort that I had to reach before actually attacking someone else, in short, I was afraid to lose, even in a stupid computer game that didn't matter, because it was just against the computer.
We can denote it as fear of embarrassment, being overly people-conscious, or what have you, but ultimately, all these reasons conglomerate into a fear of getting it wrong, or as I now like to call it, apotyphobia. Now, I don't know if this is strictly a generality of Asian-American kids, but I definitely think it's much more prevalent in Asian-American kids per se, because of the Asian emphasis on appearances or in more colloquial terminology, "saving face". This isn't to say that I discourage the exercise of prudence or sound judgment, but rather, an encouragement to push past what we normally consider to be our areas of comfort. I say this as much to myself as I do to anyone reading this, which a large part of why I write these things in the first place. Too many times we forgo the opportunity to engage simply because of our aversion to an adverse outcome, I'll be the first to admit that I'm typically like this. I prefer a wide margin of buffer space so that if things to go as planned, the engagement can still be deemed as having achieved some modicum of success. What I loosely term "engagement" in this instance ranges anywhere from a project to a simple conversation.
What drives this apotyphobia? Primarily, I think it's a sense of judgment. One of the worst feelings in the world is to feel condescended or patronized, at least it is for me. Growing up (and I can't say whether or not this is an Asian thing or not) I always had this unconscious sense that being incompetent is worse than being wrong. I want to say that's a line from a movie (Day After Tomorrow maybe?). This nagging certainty that when I do something, I can't look bad doing it, always pervades and thereby, highly limits what I do end up doing. As a guy, this holds true even more when dealing with girls. Maybe it's a societal thing, maybe it's a cultural thing, all I'm sure if is this, at some point in time, or rather at several (more than several) points in time, I am going to screw up, I need to grow up and live with it, ultimately, I need to learn and to grow from it.
While the world isn't really a very friendly place to screw up, the lesson to be learned from this is whether or not I'm okay if someone else screws up. Certainly, there are going to be more critical issues where it's going to be a bigger deal if a mistake is made, but can I live with it, and help the transgressor become a better person from it? My thoughts on this rest largely in the context of church. While we strive for excellence in church, I find that it also should be an environment in which we are comfortable "being human" and thereby falling short. Will it be embarrassing? Most certainly, but as a church, it should be a place where learning experiences can be brought to light from each embarrassment. In order for us to be transparent with one another as we ought to be in the body of Christ, we must trust the intentions of those around us and thereby are willing to just give it our best, regardless of the result. For every success there will be a correlating number of failures, that's how we learn what is going to be successful. Living in a fellowship of Christ doesn't mean getting everything right, but rather, loving one another, even when we get things wrong. A church in which people are afraid to "do the wrong thing" I think needs to take a closer look at the relationships that it has between its members.
I'm certainly not saying I'm okay with screwing up, I hope that people don't walk away with that impression, but rather, the very real possibility of me screwing up doesn't push me to inaction. In some sense you can think of it this way, if nothing happens you're not successful, which is essentially screwing up. It's not a matter of not wanting to get things right all the time, but a matter of being willing to risk getting things wrong. I know I'm apotyphobic, and to some degree, that might be called prudence, but taken too far and it renders me a paralytic. Seize the moment, and if failure ensues, learn from it. Some opportunities only come once.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Friday, January 14, 2011
What's in a word? An exercise in context
Lately, I've been pretty big on the whole concept of contextualization, the reason why we do whatever it is we end up doing. Generally speaking, I find the question of "why?" to be a very important one. While a lot of us will correlate the question perhaps with smart-alecky kids who simply have nothing to do but pester you with "why?" at every single thing you ever say, the inherent reasoning behind our actions is what ultimately compels us to take such action, thus this singular word, why, becomes of the utmost importance, because without it we would do nothing. That's not to say that every answer to the question is a good one, and that we always have a good reason to do what we do, the reason could be a horrible one but good enough to spur us into doing what we do. I write this in the wake of Amy Chua's semi-controversial Wall Street Journal article regarding the superiority of the Chinese parenting methodology (not linking to it because it's in my previous post, so in efforts to shamelessly plug my material, I'm making you go read it). In a brief and concise synopsis of my response to the article my point was simply that successful parenting cannot be measured by what you allow your child to do and the subsequent accomplishments of said child, but rather that a context for what you allow or disallow, why you push to do certain things and discourage him/her from others, is necessary to gauge what makes you a good parent.
Certainly it is true that anything you do well you enjoy it more, and certainly it is also true that it takes work to do anything well. I'll go as far as to say that it's probably true that kids generally don't want to sit down and put in the work it takes to learn to do something well, I'll go even further and say that most people won't. Why is that? Well, simply put, we don't think it's worth it. In ours (and our children's) mindset, there simply isn't a compelling enough reason or benefit to put in the extra work and effort to get good at something. So ultimately, the question boils down to, what good is getting good at something? or succinctly, "why?" While with some things, we sometimes need to be okay with the answer "just because" or in the case of our parents or even spiritual guidance "because I (a parent, leader, or God) say so". However, other times, we really need to sit down and ponder exactly the reasoning behind our action or inaction, and contemplate how "valid" (for lack of a better word) our reasoning is. This holds true for any decision we make, be it for ourselves or for others.
While having purpose behind your actions is something worthwhile (I know, I've set myself up to be asked "why" on every statement), the exercise in context is primarily to help broaden the view to continually keep the end-goal in mind. Maybe the two are the same thing to you, but to me there is a small and subtle difference between the two. I'll explain it this way; just because you have a reason to do something doesn't make it a good reason. Though the same may be said of an end goal, I like to draw a distinction between the two. A reason is what drives the action, an end goal is what you get out of it in the end. I would posit that the latter should be the former. I know it seems like I'm leading you in circles here, but perhaps an example would clarify exactly where I'm trying to get to. When you practice a scale on a piano, you can say you do it for a variety of reasons; to increase manual dexterity, to familiarize yourself with the keyboard, to help better understand where the black keys are, etc... however the ultimate goal is really to become a better pianist. Once we've established that, the question then is "why become a better pianist?" That there is the end goal. Certainly each reason we give is a component of said goal, but it all builds to that one question, which typically will be answered in some form of "just because".
Going back to Amy Chua's article and the subsequent fallout on the internet of responses, mine included, we understand that Ms. Chua does the things she does so that her children can eventually receive (hopefully) a prestigious university education. This is going to sound redundant, but this begs the question, "why go to college?" While most of you might scoff at me at how obvious the answers are, I don't know that the obvious answers are necessarily very good ones. Let's sit down and think about this for a second. For twelve (plus) years of your life, you ultimately are grooming yourself for at least another four years which supposedly define the rest of your existence? Unless you go to grad school. Seriously though, we are groomed from elementary through secondary school to eventually go to an institution, where we pay tens of thousands of dollars for a bunch of administrators telling us we need to know calculus in order to take the class from some guy that will tell us, in a purely academic setting, the conceptual skills necessary to succeed in the "real world". Maybe I'm being a little dramatic with this, but I think it's definitely something consider, because, really? Is this all there is? Ms. Chua spending exorbitant amounts of time and money to get her children to a place where they are given anywhere between 3-6 years to figure out what they want to do for the rest of their lives? College is overwhelming, yes, it's a big transition for most kids, but I would argue that a large part of the reason why college is overwhelming is because we make it so. Not to say that kids shouldn't put in the effort to get into a good school, but if that is the reason for everything they do, then generally, I think they will be ill-equipped to attend any sort of collegiate level institution.
Before I go onto this massive tangent regarding how I think children ought to be raised, my point is this, while we need to have individually measurable and achievable goals (such as, did I get into one of my top 3 college choices?), we also need to continually have the broad overarching picture in mind; to borrow from renown author Chuck Colson: "How Now Shall We Live?" Each of our lives is comprised of a collection of individual moments, and while we live in each moment, our lives as a whole are more than each moment. The context of what we do (in other words why we do what we do) is what defines us. I would urge that we all consider carefully our own contexts.
Certainly it is true that anything you do well you enjoy it more, and certainly it is also true that it takes work to do anything well. I'll go as far as to say that it's probably true that kids generally don't want to sit down and put in the work it takes to learn to do something well, I'll go even further and say that most people won't. Why is that? Well, simply put, we don't think it's worth it. In ours (and our children's) mindset, there simply isn't a compelling enough reason or benefit to put in the extra work and effort to get good at something. So ultimately, the question boils down to, what good is getting good at something? or succinctly, "why?" While with some things, we sometimes need to be okay with the answer "just because" or in the case of our parents or even spiritual guidance "because I (a parent, leader, or God) say so". However, other times, we really need to sit down and ponder exactly the reasoning behind our action or inaction, and contemplate how "valid" (for lack of a better word) our reasoning is. This holds true for any decision we make, be it for ourselves or for others.
While having purpose behind your actions is something worthwhile (I know, I've set myself up to be asked "why" on every statement), the exercise in context is primarily to help broaden the view to continually keep the end-goal in mind. Maybe the two are the same thing to you, but to me there is a small and subtle difference between the two. I'll explain it this way; just because you have a reason to do something doesn't make it a good reason. Though the same may be said of an end goal, I like to draw a distinction between the two. A reason is what drives the action, an end goal is what you get out of it in the end. I would posit that the latter should be the former. I know it seems like I'm leading you in circles here, but perhaps an example would clarify exactly where I'm trying to get to. When you practice a scale on a piano, you can say you do it for a variety of reasons; to increase manual dexterity, to familiarize yourself with the keyboard, to help better understand where the black keys are, etc... however the ultimate goal is really to become a better pianist. Once we've established that, the question then is "why become a better pianist?" That there is the end goal. Certainly each reason we give is a component of said goal, but it all builds to that one question, which typically will be answered in some form of "just because".
Going back to Amy Chua's article and the subsequent fallout on the internet of responses, mine included, we understand that Ms. Chua does the things she does so that her children can eventually receive (hopefully) a prestigious university education. This is going to sound redundant, but this begs the question, "why go to college?" While most of you might scoff at me at how obvious the answers are, I don't know that the obvious answers are necessarily very good ones. Let's sit down and think about this for a second. For twelve (plus) years of your life, you ultimately are grooming yourself for at least another four years which supposedly define the rest of your existence? Unless you go to grad school. Seriously though, we are groomed from elementary through secondary school to eventually go to an institution, where we pay tens of thousands of dollars for a bunch of administrators telling us we need to know calculus in order to take the class from some guy that will tell us, in a purely academic setting, the conceptual skills necessary to succeed in the "real world". Maybe I'm being a little dramatic with this, but I think it's definitely something consider, because, really? Is this all there is? Ms. Chua spending exorbitant amounts of time and money to get her children to a place where they are given anywhere between 3-6 years to figure out what they want to do for the rest of their lives? College is overwhelming, yes, it's a big transition for most kids, but I would argue that a large part of the reason why college is overwhelming is because we make it so. Not to say that kids shouldn't put in the effort to get into a good school, but if that is the reason for everything they do, then generally, I think they will be ill-equipped to attend any sort of collegiate level institution.
Before I go onto this massive tangent regarding how I think children ought to be raised, my point is this, while we need to have individually measurable and achievable goals (such as, did I get into one of my top 3 college choices?), we also need to continually have the broad overarching picture in mind; to borrow from renown author Chuck Colson: "How Now Shall We Live?" Each of our lives is comprised of a collection of individual moments, and while we live in each moment, our lives as a whole are more than each moment. The context of what we do (in other words why we do what we do) is what defines us. I would urge that we all consider carefully our own contexts.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Measured Success
Recently, among my circle of friends and family, I found this little article circulating. Today, a friend of mine (one who had linked to the article in her GChat status), linked to this response. I suppose this is my take on it, though I don't know that I can fully put myself in that situation, as I can never be a Chinese mother, though I do have one myself. I'm not going to go on and say who is right and who isn't, not going to go into the psychology of child-rearing, and I'm not going to tell anyone how to raise his/her children. I'm not a parent myself, and perhaps I didn't have the most typical of Chinese parents, or at least according to Amy Chua, I didn't. However, I just find it very interesting the scope of the article and all that.
I just noted that in the headline of the article it reads:
I have a job (in this economy), I feel I'm living a well adjusted life, full of loving friends and family, and I'm happy with where I am, I'm content. Now, am I successful? Hard to say. It sort of begs the question: what is success? Is it based on what I have? If that's the case, then I'd say I'm moderately successful. I mean, I have nice apartment, a car, a job, a computer, some decent pieces of musical equipment, a my fair share of toys and gadgets, a bachelor's and a master's, then again, I also have debt from school. On that same note, there are a lot of things I don't have, a girlfriend, a house, lots of money, etc... Still, then, the question of success eludes me. I can only suggest that I am not unsuccessful. This inclines me towards the notion that success then, is a subjective and relative term. To me, success is measured by an end goal, therefore, the phrase "successful person" doesn't really hold much water. Think about it, realistically, what is the end goal of a person? I can say an experiment was either a success or failure by its results. I can say that a basketball coach is successful or not by how his/her team plays, by the team's record, are they winning more games? Are the players getting better? Yet what is that measure in a person? Wealth? Acclaim? Character? I posit, that at best, we can simply point out those that are "not unsuccessful". While the question is the same, the nature of what we measure is different with happiness.
I'm not here to say that it's bad to have/be a math whiz or musical prodigy, but I think everything needs to be put in an appropriate context, and ultimately that is the context of life. Chinese parents will spend tens of thousands of dollars (I'm not kidding) and hours for the musical and academic enrichment of their children, and for what purpose? As an aficionado of music, I'd be the first to tell you that I think children should all be given the opportunity to appreciate and make music, yet Ms. Hsu, in her response brings up the very legitimate point that Chinese (Asian) parents will often be displeased if music were to inspire their children to become a professional musician (or, as an ongoing joke, any profession not inclusive of doctors, lawyers, or engineers). Contextually then, what is the purpose of learning a musical instrument? Generally in the case of Chinese children, piano and/or violin. While perhaps that is asking a lot of a child, I don't know that I would condone asking one to do something he/she cannot answer why he/she is doing it (even if the answer is as simple as, "I like it"). One thing I've noted about Chinese culture, is that it's all about appearances, but to me, it frankly is a horrible reason to do something because every other Asian child is doing it or so that you can brag to your friends about your child. I'm sorry, but being able to play Rachmaninoff's Variations on Paganini at age 8 is hardly indicative to me of "good parenting", and yes, when you tell your friend how much your son/daughter studies/practices you're really saying, "Look at how well I discipline my children." While I don't doubt that every single Chinese parent has a picture of who/what he/she would want his/her child to become, there remains an issue; is the child on board? My personal experience, as well as my observations fellow 2nd generation Chinese children around me, has shown that generally, Chinese parenting is very short sighted. Ms. Hsu points out a lack of drive in Chinese children growing up, and I attribute that to above-mentioned short-sightedness. It's hard to get anyone really motivated about something if the driving reason behind doing it is being told by someone else to do it. You ask the question "Why?" enough times and you'll quickly realize that a lot of things these kids do simply because their parents have programmed them to be like that. Why get good grades? To go to a good college. Why go to a good college? To get a good job. Why get a good job? To make money to support a family. While none of these things are undesirable, I certainly don't see those as the purpose of existence.
Ms. Chua is to be commended for her perseverance in pushing her children to achieve, but again, we have to ask the question "to what end?" Certainly I believe in a degree of regimen growing up teaches us responsibility, but to essentially obliterate any "frivolous" childhood activity? Perhaps, I'll be accused of becoming "too American" but that hardly seems healthy. The Atkins diet is good, but that doesn't mean that's all you do for the rest of your life. We are to enjoy in the people, the places, and the things that God has placed around us, so living a life where what you "like" is irrelevant and "having a good time" is wasteful hardly seems like something God would want for us. In the case of music, the children are often asked to "grow out of" whatever they spent all that time, sweat, and dollars getting this stuff hammered into them. Isn't that frivolous? Certainly there is something other than music that can teach discipline. So, that begs the question, why have them learn music in the first place? The grand scheme of things, ultimately, I believe is for your children to grow up into productive, well-adjusted adults. How do painful hours of sitting in front of a piano either practicing, performing, or in lessons help? I'm not ungrateful my mom had me learn piano, and sometimes I do wish she pushed me harder, on that same note though, it's because in retrospect, there are a lot of things I would enjoy doing now had I been a better pianist as a child, in other words, I'm still playing piano. My father once told me after I graduated, "Now you can play well enough to play for praise in church, to me, that means the piano lessons were worth it." Context. Not that playing for church was the goal of my piano lessons, but, there needs to be something beyond that last recital if your child isn't going to become the next Lang Lang, even if it is the simple appreciation of music. I'm not accusing Ms. Chua of ruining her children's childhoods, no, it sounds like her husband does take them out to fun stuff, movies, baseball games, etc... Nonetheless, this no-nonsense style of raising her children is exactly that, a style, there's no basis for her to posit that hers is better than others, to do so is simply arrogance.
I suppose what makes this article somewhat intriguing, is this concept of superiority, that one is better than the other. Certainly, Ms. Chua brings up very good points in not allowing her children to give up, and I applaud her for her tenacity and her dedication, however, under what presumed authority can she say that what she is doing is "better" than the next parent who is perhaps by her standards more "lenient" on his/her child? I would posit the following broad generality based on the sort of broad sweeping generality that Ms. Chua has illustrated in her article: while Chinese parents may know (or at least think they know) what is best for their children, they don't know their children all that well. In her article, Ms. Chua all but writes off the concept of self-esteem, and sure, she's entitled to her opinions and her thoughts, and thus, she's very hard on her children when it comes to results. I posit this though, and perhaps Ms. Chua is different, but most Chinese parents aren't aware of how hard their children are on themselves. Going back to the music example, since that is one of the more understandable examples, "you played it wrong" is probably the most useless piece of feedback anyone can give/get. While the parent has spent the money sending the child to music lessons, the child is the one who has spent the time and effort studying the music, so therefore, the child probably knows more about music, or at the very least more about whatever piece he/she is practicing than the parent does, and generally will know if/when it is played incorrectly. It's kind of like telling someone who's parking he/she is close to the curb AFTER the car has run up on the sidewalk. While it's nice of Ms. Chua to think that there are no natural limitations in regards to what her children can do (at least musically and academically), can she affirm that the way she does things works for both of her children exactly the same way? No. While the intention may be good, a lot of times the comparison of one child to another comes across to the "lesser" child as simply, "Why are you so dumb?" or "What's wrong with you?" rather than "You can do it too". Calling your child "garbage" can be a learning implement, but as with all implements it must be properly used to be effective.
The more I think about how I want to proceed with this, the more I realize how this can exponentially bubble into any number of long-debated topics, from positive versus negative reinforcement to nature versus nurture. Now, I'm no psychologist, so I'm not going to get into all of this, so I suppose I've touched upon everything that really kind of irked me about this article. Maybe a Chinese kid can score higher on a math test or play some remarkably difficult piece at a younger age, but is that really all there is to it? If it is, then life is dumb. I'm all for giving children opportunities, but they have lives too, at some point in time, they need to live it.
I just noted that in the headline of the article it reads:
And then the first line of the article suddenly jumps into:
Can a regimen of no playdates, no TV, no computer games and hours of music practice create happy kids?
A lot of people wonder how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many math whizzes and music prodigies, what it's like inside the family, and whether they could do it too.Hm... I don't know, there seems to be something of a dichotomy here. At least to me there is. What is this dichotomy? First, happiness and success. Are they one and the same? The second, math whizzes, music prodigies and success. Same question. Okay, so maybe dichotomy is a strong word, but I do find the immediate juxtaposition that Ms. Chua strings together within her article somewhat... well... hard to swallow. Of course, who am I to say anything? Relatively speaking, I'm hardly a typical "Chinese success story". I didn't get straight As in school, I didn't go to an Ivy League university for undergraduate, I didn't go to a "West Coast Ivy" like Stanford or Cal Tech, I didn't even go to a top 5 state university in the nation. Sure I played piano when I was younger, classically, my teacher lamented at my practice habits and called me her student with the most "unrealized potential", which essentially is an offhanded way of saying I could've been good if I tried or worked harder, so no, I never played in Carnegie Hall, or performed with some orchestra on tour. Biggest thing I've done is play in a couple of local competition recitals, a couple of local piano teacher showcase recitals, a master class, and a personal recital when I graduated from high school, oh, and I got paid once to play for a Unitarian church service. Now, I have a job, maybe I'll stay at it, maybe I won't. For one, I'm not a doctor, nor a lawyer, nor an engineer. By my schooling, I'm supposed to be an accountant (which I'm not right now vocationally), and I'm not even too sure I want to be that either. Does this mean I have failed to succeed? In other words, does this mean I'm a failure?
I have a job (in this economy), I feel I'm living a well adjusted life, full of loving friends and family, and I'm happy with where I am, I'm content. Now, am I successful? Hard to say. It sort of begs the question: what is success? Is it based on what I have? If that's the case, then I'd say I'm moderately successful. I mean, I have nice apartment, a car, a job, a computer, some decent pieces of musical equipment, a my fair share of toys and gadgets, a bachelor's and a master's, then again, I also have debt from school. On that same note, there are a lot of things I don't have, a girlfriend, a house, lots of money, etc... Still, then, the question of success eludes me. I can only suggest that I am not unsuccessful. This inclines me towards the notion that success then, is a subjective and relative term. To me, success is measured by an end goal, therefore, the phrase "successful person" doesn't really hold much water. Think about it, realistically, what is the end goal of a person? I can say an experiment was either a success or failure by its results. I can say that a basketball coach is successful or not by how his/her team plays, by the team's record, are they winning more games? Are the players getting better? Yet what is that measure in a person? Wealth? Acclaim? Character? I posit, that at best, we can simply point out those that are "not unsuccessful". While the question is the same, the nature of what we measure is different with happiness.
I'm not here to say that it's bad to have/be a math whiz or musical prodigy, but I think everything needs to be put in an appropriate context, and ultimately that is the context of life. Chinese parents will spend tens of thousands of dollars (I'm not kidding) and hours for the musical and academic enrichment of their children, and for what purpose? As an aficionado of music, I'd be the first to tell you that I think children should all be given the opportunity to appreciate and make music, yet Ms. Hsu, in her response brings up the very legitimate point that Chinese (Asian) parents will often be displeased if music were to inspire their children to become a professional musician (or, as an ongoing joke, any profession not inclusive of doctors, lawyers, or engineers). Contextually then, what is the purpose of learning a musical instrument? Generally in the case of Chinese children, piano and/or violin. While perhaps that is asking a lot of a child, I don't know that I would condone asking one to do something he/she cannot answer why he/she is doing it (even if the answer is as simple as, "I like it"). One thing I've noted about Chinese culture, is that it's all about appearances, but to me, it frankly is a horrible reason to do something because every other Asian child is doing it or so that you can brag to your friends about your child. I'm sorry, but being able to play Rachmaninoff's Variations on Paganini at age 8 is hardly indicative to me of "good parenting", and yes, when you tell your friend how much your son/daughter studies/practices you're really saying, "Look at how well I discipline my children." While I don't doubt that every single Chinese parent has a picture of who/what he/she would want his/her child to become, there remains an issue; is the child on board? My personal experience, as well as my observations fellow 2nd generation Chinese children around me, has shown that generally, Chinese parenting is very short sighted. Ms. Hsu points out a lack of drive in Chinese children growing up, and I attribute that to above-mentioned short-sightedness. It's hard to get anyone really motivated about something if the driving reason behind doing it is being told by someone else to do it. You ask the question "Why?" enough times and you'll quickly realize that a lot of things these kids do simply because their parents have programmed them to be like that. Why get good grades? To go to a good college. Why go to a good college? To get a good job. Why get a good job? To make money to support a family. While none of these things are undesirable, I certainly don't see those as the purpose of existence.
Ms. Chua is to be commended for her perseverance in pushing her children to achieve, but again, we have to ask the question "to what end?" Certainly I believe in a degree of regimen growing up teaches us responsibility, but to essentially obliterate any "frivolous" childhood activity? Perhaps, I'll be accused of becoming "too American" but that hardly seems healthy. The Atkins diet is good, but that doesn't mean that's all you do for the rest of your life. We are to enjoy in the people, the places, and the things that God has placed around us, so living a life where what you "like" is irrelevant and "having a good time" is wasteful hardly seems like something God would want for us. In the case of music, the children are often asked to "grow out of" whatever they spent all that time, sweat, and dollars getting this stuff hammered into them. Isn't that frivolous? Certainly there is something other than music that can teach discipline. So, that begs the question, why have them learn music in the first place? The grand scheme of things, ultimately, I believe is for your children to grow up into productive, well-adjusted adults. How do painful hours of sitting in front of a piano either practicing, performing, or in lessons help? I'm not ungrateful my mom had me learn piano, and sometimes I do wish she pushed me harder, on that same note though, it's because in retrospect, there are a lot of things I would enjoy doing now had I been a better pianist as a child, in other words, I'm still playing piano. My father once told me after I graduated, "Now you can play well enough to play for praise in church, to me, that means the piano lessons were worth it." Context. Not that playing for church was the goal of my piano lessons, but, there needs to be something beyond that last recital if your child isn't going to become the next Lang Lang, even if it is the simple appreciation of music. I'm not accusing Ms. Chua of ruining her children's childhoods, no, it sounds like her husband does take them out to fun stuff, movies, baseball games, etc... Nonetheless, this no-nonsense style of raising her children is exactly that, a style, there's no basis for her to posit that hers is better than others, to do so is simply arrogance.
I suppose what makes this article somewhat intriguing, is this concept of superiority, that one is better than the other. Certainly, Ms. Chua brings up very good points in not allowing her children to give up, and I applaud her for her tenacity and her dedication, however, under what presumed authority can she say that what she is doing is "better" than the next parent who is perhaps by her standards more "lenient" on his/her child? I would posit the following broad generality based on the sort of broad sweeping generality that Ms. Chua has illustrated in her article: while Chinese parents may know (or at least think they know) what is best for their children, they don't know their children all that well. In her article, Ms. Chua all but writes off the concept of self-esteem, and sure, she's entitled to her opinions and her thoughts, and thus, she's very hard on her children when it comes to results. I posit this though, and perhaps Ms. Chua is different, but most Chinese parents aren't aware of how hard their children are on themselves. Going back to the music example, since that is one of the more understandable examples, "you played it wrong" is probably the most useless piece of feedback anyone can give/get. While the parent has spent the money sending the child to music lessons, the child is the one who has spent the time and effort studying the music, so therefore, the child probably knows more about music, or at the very least more about whatever piece he/she is practicing than the parent does, and generally will know if/when it is played incorrectly. It's kind of like telling someone who's parking he/she is close to the curb AFTER the car has run up on the sidewalk. While it's nice of Ms. Chua to think that there are no natural limitations in regards to what her children can do (at least musically and academically), can she affirm that the way she does things works for both of her children exactly the same way? No. While the intention may be good, a lot of times the comparison of one child to another comes across to the "lesser" child as simply, "Why are you so dumb?" or "What's wrong with you?" rather than "You can do it too". Calling your child "garbage" can be a learning implement, but as with all implements it must be properly used to be effective.
The more I think about how I want to proceed with this, the more I realize how this can exponentially bubble into any number of long-debated topics, from positive versus negative reinforcement to nature versus nurture. Now, I'm no psychologist, so I'm not going to get into all of this, so I suppose I've touched upon everything that really kind of irked me about this article. Maybe a Chinese kid can score higher on a math test or play some remarkably difficult piece at a younger age, but is that really all there is to it? If it is, then life is dumb. I'm all for giving children opportunities, but they have lives too, at some point in time, they need to live it.
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