I am a father of three who has been on the frontline of parenting for years. I refuse to leave the entire discussion about proper child-rearing to mothers, Tiger Mom or otherwise.
When my kids were 2, 4 and 7, our family of five moved from suburban New Jersey to Beijing. Time in China taught me that while some people here view a Chinese education as the gold standard, many there are questioning the system, noting that it stifles creativity and innovation, two things the nation sorely needs. Further, having seen it in action, I have a strong aversion to hard-driving “Tiger” parenting, certain that is not a superior method if your goals are my goals: to raise independent, competent, confident adults.
Call me the Panda Dad; I am happy to parent with cuddliness, but not afraid to show some claw. Controlled chaos reigns in our house and it works for us. It has also been a plus for our children, giving them space to take on responsibilities, be independent and see their parents pursuing their own interests and careers while also being very involved in one another’s lives. And it introduced them to a simple fact early: Life itself is controlled chaos and success depends on navigating it, rather than waiting for things to be perfect.
Kids raised in this fashion have more of an opportunity to develop their own personalities and interests. Our home is like a state university, where you can get a great education but you have to do your own legwork. The kids are constantly learning to take responsibility for their own homework, play time and everything else. Doing so allows them to take genuine pride in their accomplishments. They need to succeed for their own benefit, not to prove that their parents are successful. It’s sheer narcissism to believe that your child’s every success and failure is a reflection of your worth. Get over yourself.
Living in a Beijing housing compound, I watched Western and African kids running through the streets in roving packs of fun-seekers while their Chinese friends looked dolefully out the window in the midst of long hours spent practicing violin, piano or character-writing. It looked like a sad, lonesome way to grow up and nothing I would ever prescribe to my children. And of course it’s not the only style of Chinese parenting. I saw plenty of kids smashing these same stereotypes.
It’s easy to understand a traditional Chinese drive for perfection in children: it is a huge nation with a long history of people thriving at the top and scraping by at the bottom without much in between. The appeal in contemporary America stems from a sense that our nation is becoming stratified in similar ways and is about to get steamrolled by China. If you can’t beat them, join them.
It’s an understandable impulse but it’s wrong. Forcing a child to constantly bend to your will can lead to docile mama’s boys or girls seeking approval for everything they do or lead to constant rebellion and head-butting. Banning playing and sleeping at friends’ houses furthers a dangerous sense of isolation, denying them the ability to make the very social connections and interactions that they will need throughout life. These are the very skills that kids should be honing for success as a functioning adult, far more important than being able to play piano. Kids need more unstructured play, not less.
What, according to the author, is the problem of a Chinese education?
The hard-driving “Tiger” parenting.
Why did the author choose to be called Panda Dad?
Because he is happy to parent with cuddliness, but not afraid to show some claw.
What are the advantages of Panda Dad’s way of education?
It can give children space to take on responsibilities, be independent and see their parents pursuing their own interests and careers while also being very involved in one another’s lives.
What is the reason for perfection in Chinese children?
Because China is a huge nation with a long history of people thriving at the top and scraping by at the bottom without much in between.