So, this week I am writing about what it means to me to be a good, or good enough, parent. Before I pontificate, let me begin by saying that parenting is the hardest thing I have ever had to do and I question myself every hour of every day whether I am doing an okay job. I want to be a great parent, as many others do, but what does that even really mean? There are so many different factors that go into parenting (the age of the parents, socioeconomic status, family support, community support, race, etc.) And so I use the term "good enough" because no one is a perfect parent, and we all have different ideas about how to raise kids that won't one day shoot up an unsuspecting elementary school.
I needed a jumping off point to begin the discussion in my head (see "pontificate"). It got me thinking about an article that was printed in the Wall Street Journal several years back about the "tiger mom" way of parenting.
The article, entitled "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior," is an excerpt from a book written by Amy Chua, entitled Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. I remember the controversy surrounding the article and the extreme reactions people had to her espoused parenting methodology. I thought it would be provocative to force myself to read the article without judgment and in spite of my own parenting differences. So, I read it. And I read it again. And I read it a third time. Each time I was able to tone down my reactions and really focus on what successful parenting means to other parents out there, especially what it means to this Ms. Amy Chua. Also, I wanted to understand the author's viewpoint because my husband was raised in a similar fashion by his very traditional Korean parents. Are her ideas, though controversial, good ideas and could I embrace any single one of them? Does my husband practice any of these concepts and is that a good or a bad thing? I am a sucky parent, just an okay parent, or am I actually doing something right with these kids?
The "tiger mom" article begins with a list of things that Ms. Chua's two daughters were either never allowed to do or were required to do, amongst them some very typical "American" childhood activities. There were no play dates, no sleepovers, no sleepaway camp, no grades less than an A, no choosing extracurricular activities, no watching TV or playing on the computer, no participating in a school play, no boyfriends; additionally, they must be the top student in all classes except gym and drama and absolutely MUST play either or both the violin and piano. Ms. Chua explains that this list serves as a guide to her style of "tiger mom" parenting, which, in sum, goes something like this: the parent must be obeyed and made proud by the child, the child is not allowed an opinion as the parent knows "what is best", the parent must "punish" and "shame" the child in order to make the child excel, the parent must drill the child on tasks until mastered and the child must submit to this, "nothing is fun until you're good at it" and being good at "math, piano, pitching or ballet" "builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun," and finally, though in direct conflict with the title of the article (that being that her parenting style is "superior"), Ms. Chua explains that her model is just "entirely different" than what she coins as the western style of parenting, though if followed, will produce "stereotypically successful kids."
After my third reading of the article, my first thought was of a story my husband told me regarding his father's parenting "style," shall we say. My husband was born and raised in South Korea. He immigrated to the United States when he was 11 and spoke no English. Though, he was the top ping pong player in Illinois. Why? Because, as a young boy, his father had him join the national Korean ping pong team, for which he practiced 8 hours a day until the day he left Korea (it is a little mafia-esque over there - once you are in, they don't let you out). His father was very invested in my husband's success with ping pong, feeling the losses heavily, such that, once, when my husband lost a big match, his father spit on him. I asked my husband, innocently, what he thought of this. Quietly, he said that it made him hate his father even more than he already did. He didn't want to play ping pong anymore. But his father made him play and play and play. What started out as fun for my husband became a grueling and sometimes abusive task. The winning meant nothing other than avoiding the inevitable spitting (and other unspeakable things). So, was the shaming, punishing, drilling, and forcing of my husband a good or bad parenting tactic? I guess if what you want most is results, then yes. He was the best at ping pong. But, at what cost? Perhaps Ms. Chua would say who cares to the costs when the benefit is so great. But, if she is right, that success makes a child feel confident and happy, why was my husband so miserable? He not only hated ping pong but began to literally hate his father. To this day, there is a rift so deep between the two of them that my husband admits he does not love his father and perhaps does not even respect him.
I can say with full confidence that the risk did not play out well for my father-in-law, at least in my eyes. Who are we as parents if we cannot at least say to ourselves that our children love us? If, when I begin to die, as we all do, my children do not care to be by my bedside, lovingly, I must question for what purpose is parenthood? And that leads me to a good place to conclude my pontificating. I don't want to talk about why I disagree with some if not all of Ms. Chua's parenting ideas. And I don't like thinking about the suffering forced upon my husband by his very traditional Korean parents (whom Ms. Chua agrees have a similar parenting style to herself). I want to know that every day, every hour of every day, I love my children and that they love me in return. We fight, we disagree, heck we even lose it sometimes, but when it is all said and done, I know that I love them and that they love me. Isn't that what being family is about? That no matter what happens or where your life takes you, that your mother or your father or your sister or brother loves you - without strings attached - whether they be piano or violin (ha ha). If that means I am weak-minded or a bad parent, I'll take it. I'll take it in this life right on into the next. To that end, all I have to say advice wise is to love your kids, each and every hour of every day. Tell them that you love them. Show them that you love them. That, very simply, is being a good parent. Until next time, SAHM.
