Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother

Amy Chua, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, New York:The Penguin Press, 2011.

This book is a memoir, not a parenting guide. This was my repeated explanation as to why I–a single, childless, underemployed young attorney–was reading Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. I was relieved to see that is what the author herself thought of her book as well when I reached the end. “My book’s not about telling other parents what to do. I think there’s been a lot of misunderstanding because of the Wall Street Journal excerpt…Battle Hymn is just my family’s story. And it’s partly about my mistakes, my own transformation as a mother.”

I borrowed the book on my Kindle via my local public library’s digital loan service. I was surprised to see that it was one of few books that didn’t have a waiting list for check out. After reading it I’m even more confused as to why. People really just need to give it a chance.

This book reinforced an idea that’s been gaining momentum in my mind as I have entered adulthood. Even if they do things completely differently than their children would have liked them to, or than those children would raise their own children, all parents want the same thing. They want what’s best for their children.

Of course, difference in culture comes into play when trying to define what “best” means. And it seems many Americans could not fathom the possibility that Ms. Chua’s notions of what was best for her daughters would mirror theirs at all. But I would disagree. For example, take the idea of fun. Not being a parent, I would assume that most parents would hope that their children would find ways to have (good, clean) fun. Ms. Chua doesn’t seem to disagree with this–she just points out that nothing’s fun until you’re good at it. To get good at something takes work. Children don’t like work, so when the child’s interest wanes, it takes the parent to keep the child focused. This makes complete sense to me. Anything worth doing is worth doing well.

Another example is self-esteem. I still remember from my days in middle school sitting through an assembly where they made us sing this ridiculous song “I am smart, I am successful, I am special, I am somebody–that’s right!” I didn’t have to sing that song as an earliteen to know those things were true–my parents made sure I was successful. Success built confidence, and confidence encouraged positive self-esteem. This might mean my parents must have done a little tiger parenting, because this is exactly what Ms. Chua emphasized. “One of the worst things you can do for your child’s self-esteem,” she explains, “is to let them give up. On the flip side, there’s nothing better for building confidence than learning you can do something you thought you couldn’t.” This explains why I, like her daughter, wasn’t allowed to quit piano lessons. Unlike her daughter, I didn’t make it to Carnegie Hall.

Though she didn’t quite put it in these terms, it seems to me that Ms. Chua’s memoir reflects an attempt at building strong characters in her daughters: “the best way to protect their children is by preparing them for the future, letting them see what they’re capable of, and arming them with skills, work habits, and inner confidence that no one can ever take away.” Shouldn’t such development of character be the primary concern on all parents minds?

You should read this book. It was not only an interesting window into the lives of another family, but also allowed opportunity for me to reflect on my own experience growing up. Even though this isn’t a parenting guide, and even though I’m childless, it definitely provided some wholesome food for thought on how my own parenting style may look one day.

AS