As long as I could remember, I have been accustomed to the 'Chinese' style of parenting, as described famously by Amy Chua in her book - 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother', which I immediately got hold of a copy after I read her much-talked about article on the WSJ online: "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior".
Ever since then, I have been very open about proclaiming myself to be a huge fan of the 'Tiger Mother', and even managed to strike up a prolonged topic of conversation with a certain Neurologist about the book. I would invariably make my own kids practise the piano 3 hours or more a day, drill scales and arpeggios, make sure they hit Carnegie Hall-material within a couple of years, and expect them to turn out no less than successful, educated people who were not just around to be a waste of space and oxygen to society, yet retain the filial piety of a well brought-up Chinese kid.
Twenty odd years later, I admit that my childhood was no box of chocolates. My mum was as militant about school grades, music achievements, sports, dancing and being an all-rounder as any 'Chinese Mother' could get. And yet, still, twenty odd years later, even though I have not turned out to be the world class Cardiothoracic Surgeon, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Flautist, Prima Ballerina, or Pullitzer-Prize winning Writer, I had dreamed of being as a little girl, I offer no regrets on my lack of childhood drama.
For if it were not for the tight schedules, constant fear evoked within when I got less than an A on any subject, and endless lectures-turned-tirades, I would not have been the person I am today.
Sure, I look about 10 times stronger than I really am, emotionally at least. Physically, I can vouch for - I have the strongest grip and super broad shoulders - but I kid, I kid. As much as I can turn into a sentimental schmuck when it comes to certain matters in life, I owe every bit of determination and strength I possess today to my mum's parenting methods and her amazing ability to drill sense into me, yet motivate me in the best ways whenever I needed them most.
It is a 'Chinese' thing, I am sure, and an acquired skill nonetheless, to disguise your true feelings and put on a front, hence the practice of never heaping praise or accepting it openly, despite how the heart might really be overflowing with emotion within. And I have grown up having perfected this skill, possibly to my own downfall at times. But I realise that in Amy Chua's context, there was never a doubt that the relationship she possesses with her daughters is a priceless one, and the entire book is pretty much Tongue In Cheek - humour which I totally get :) - and a similar shadow of the relationship I share with my own mum.
So all these years later, even though I have deteriorated from being near the top of a class of students to flailingly surviving Med School. Even though I have momentarily lost all the ambitions and visions I built earlier in terms of achieving the most of my medical career. Even though I am now nothing to show a whole childhood of discipline and character-building, I have grown up. In so many ways that even I have not realised myself, into this TwentySomething young lady, who hopefully one day, will possess as much poise as did her Super Mum.
And who hopefully will one day, get to practice the cardinal teachings of her one biggest idol, the Tiger Mother.
No comments:
Post a Comment