Is there anything that can guide the new generation of tiger parents?
In the end Tiger Mother’s War Song, Amy Chua’s 2011 memoir of granite-fied, Chinese-style child-rearing, anonymous mother finally has a twist: a little idea that even parental pressure that might be appropriate can continue.
Speaking to him a decade later, Chua – a US-born law professor at Yale – is very cautious. And, in the same era of self-realization, China can also have the same idea on the wisdom of allowing modern educational competitions to improve.
Earlier this month, Reuters reiterated talks with the Chinese government to reduce the country’s $ 120bn private tuition fees, reduce child stress, and help revive birth rates by reducing the financial burden of schooling. Investigators rushed to threaten the closure crisis over the weekend as well as the costs, although shares in training companies such as New Oriental and TAL fell through. This may seem logical, but would anyone, even a Communist party, disagree with Tiger’s parents?
Such contraceptives are dangerously wise. In her split account (and she rarely reads it deliberately), Chua is planning a family affair to bomb her American daughter and what is known to be the most intense love affair in China or “Asia”. Using frustrating matches, he warns against oppression and also recommends that before his daughter’s violin is started in front of friends and relatives he should “move miraculously”, or fail.
The process is going well, but when a visitor wants to succeed in child protection in Chua, Tiger’s mother admits that she is no longer convinced. Later, as she laid the baby, “something in her eyes told me my days are over”.
This was a time when the hearts of unsuspecting readers were allowed to jump a bit and relax. Over the past 200 pages, we have quietly thought – or perhaps have hoped for – that Chua and his daughters would pay a higher price. In other words – this exaggerated pressure was a legitimate and necessary means of success in the modern education market – it was very debilitating.
The problem, however, is that the Chua approach now seems to be a bit of a struggle compared to the academic wars that are taking place today. Parents with tigers everywhere are afraid of being locked out of zero-zero games when success requires any cost. In his memoirs, Chua explains (perhaps recklessly) that his sole purpose was to promote the interest and endurance of his children. Many parents, he says, now see them as a leading book in American, Chinese and other educational markets where their main goal is to be successful. This, he says, a decade later, is why the book came under fire: it was published at a time when fears in the U.S. surrounding the training of training groups were linked to fears of China’s rise. And it hasn’t been long since.
Today, Chua says, high-profile competition at universities in the US is a “risk factor”, unprofitable and even more dangerous than in the past when its risks seem far-reaching. Much of what he forced his children to do would not be practical today, he says, adding: “If you do all the things that would have an Asian in the [to college] Ten years ago, you wouldn’t do well. ”
The problem with hearing that from a man who created himself under the influence of parents, and that without a textbook modified, the Tiger Mothers generation – wherever they may be – only doubles, triples or quadruples under secret teachers, cram schools and piano lessons. Competitive power at work is so powerful that it seems to contradict the population. Since 2011, under 18 years of age Japanese people fell by 8.2% but the figure of cram schools and enrolled students rose by 32 percent and 16 percent respectively.
China’s education ministry seems justified – even successful – in trying to enforce rules in place of troubled, sleep-deprived children. But the law seems to contradict the anger, tears and frustrations that many parents are taught to deal with easily. Chinese secret training – companies compared to 1m corporations and 10m employees – can go underground. The competition can be very tough.
Chua began his book with a list of things that explained his government. They included banning all musical instruments except the violin or the piano. He has now revealed that the piccolo is acceptable. There is little chance that the next generation of tigers are ready to receive such a permit.