Tiger Mother's roar causes interest, criticism

Her little "tiger daughter" fought back, screaming crying and tearing up the music.

"I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic," Chua writes.

Such language hits America's soft-hearted "every child is special" philosophy like an incendiary bomb.

"That woman is sick," wrote a respondent on The Atlanta Journal-Constitution's Get Schooled blog.

New York blogger Betty Ling Miu commented that "Parents like Amy Chua are the reason why Asian-Americans like me are in therapy."

The torrent of attention was, of course, excellent marketing for Chua's new book, "The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother," but the hostile reception caused even the tigerish Chua to backpedal slightly. In a follow-up story in the New York Times she stressed that the essay was part of a memoir, not a parenting guide, that her attitude softened later, and that her daughters were well-adjusted and happy.

Yet Chua's over-the-top account obviously touched a nerve among Western and Chinese parents alike. Westerners, perennially insecure about their children, secretly envied Asian high-achievers and wondered whether they should take a page from Chua's book. And many Chinese families said Chua's approach was not so different from the way they grew up.

The endless drills with flash cards? The enforced practice at the piano? The strict rules about socializing?

"Generally I can relate to it a lot," said Kerry Lee, 24, of Norcross, whose Chinese parents immigrated from Singapore. Lee's mother, Hwee-Eng Lee, said her own parents were even stricter.

Queena Kuo, 23, of Alpharetta, recognized the Chua household right away. Now a second-grade teacher at a Gwinnett charter school, Kuo was required to attend Chinese school on Saturdays and, like Chua's children, discouraged from spending time on sports.

"Nobody wants to go to school five days a week and then go to school on Saturday," Kuo said. On the other hand, she speaks fluent Mandarin now, while some relatives can't tell the difference between Mandarin and Cantonese. "I was deprived of birthday parties and other things because of Chinese school, but I definitely feel I have an advantage, in the business world and socially."

Considering the number of Asian children winning piano competitions, finishing first in their classes and gaining entrance to Ivy League colleges, the advantage of Tiger Mothering seems self-evident.

"People see the success rate of Asian children" and wonder if they can duplicate it with their own children, said David Goodwin, father of two adopted Chinese girls and orchestra teacher at Druid Hills.

Goodwin said tiger mothering works with some children, but not others. "Anyone who is teaching Asians will recognize that kids are individuals, you can’t pigeonhole them."

The most severe critics of Chua's method say it glorifies child-rearing that produces a high suicide rate among Asian girls. Writing in the Web magazine Hyphen, one author said her upbringing was successful, until she tried to step off of the Golden Gate Bridge.

Others point out that goal-oriented parenting is not strictly Chinese or Asian, but is typical of many immigrant families.

Diana Tsimbler Som, 23, of Dunwoody, was born in Lithuania, and her parents immigrated when she was 1. If Som received a 98 on a test, her parents wondered why she didn't get 100. There were no sleepovers, no sports and no driver's license until she was 18.

"I didn’t do anything bad as a child because I couldn’t; my parents watched me like a hawk."

But in the new world, Som said, the old world standards must be relaxed. Atlanta child-rearing expert Michael Popkin agreed.

"It works in a culture with an autocratic tradition, but in a culture with a Democratic tradition, kids will rebel against it," he said. "Kids pushed to the limit often grow stronger, but sometimes they break under the strain."

Yet the positive side of Chua's message isn't lost on Leah Chew, 40 of Tucker. Born in Taiwan (her Chinese name is An Chi Yu) to parents who immigrated to the U.S. when she was 2, Chew was brought up to understand that good things take effort and that school was her first priority. Her parents assumed she was strong enough to weather criticism. They had high expectations and were highly involved.

Chew mothers her own 14-year-old daughter Linda similarly, but with some changes. Sleepovers are still discouraged but sports are acceptable -- Linda has been playing soccer since she was in kindergarten. Still, Chew isn't afraid to criticize. "If I tighten up the reins, say strong words to her, it wakes her up a little bit, and she’ll start doing good."

Her husband, Brian Chew, born of a British mother and a Chinese father, had a strict upbringing, that included an 8 p.m. curfew until he was a senior in high school. But Brian recognizes that Leah can ask for more than he does -- partly because she is simply more tenacious.

"I have to back away, I get frustrated," said Chew, 49. "Leah can continue, she will push, she will cajole."

In other words, the Tiger Mother lives on.