Tiger Mother wannabe

I'm currently reading the book "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother," which I'm enjoying very much. Of course, I'm enjoying it for all the wrong reasons. It makes me feel like I'm not the worst mom in the world.

The book was written by a mom who's raising her children the "Chinese way." Which, as the book explains, includes strict, Old World, uncompromising values. Chinese parents are never indulgent or permissive, instead stressing academic performance above all, endless music drilling and practice, and unquestioning respect for authority.

At first, I felt sorry for the exhausted kids, who were drilled relentlessly by their hard-core mom. But then I found myself siding with the mom--what's wrong with expecting a lot from your kids, and teaching them failure's not an option?

My thoughts upon reading the book were:

• "Wow, those poor kids! What a miserable, lonely childhood they have."
• "Man, that Mom is insane--she's like a 24-hour drill sergeant to those kids!"
• "Wow, that mom's really getting amazing results. Her kid played piano in Carnegie Hall at 14!" (I'm a wimpy Western moms who deems 20 minutes of daily drum practice a success.)
• "Mark is wrong--I'm definitely NOT the meanest mom around."

I shared all of these thoughts with Mark over dinner. I told him how the kids practiced their instruments up to six hours a day, sometimes longer if they goofed around. And how they played every single day, even on vacation (they only stayed at hotels with pianos).

Mark couldn't believe it. His eyes grew wide when I told of how the younger daughter came in second place for her multiplication speed test.

"What did the mom do?" Mark asked, fearfully.

"She made the girl do multiplication tests every night," I said. "She gave her 20 sheets a night, with 100 problems each on them!"

"Oh my God!" Mark wailed. "That's like..." [Long pause, while he tried to multiply 20 times 100.] "That's like...20 times 100...carry the one...add the zero..."

I sighed.

"It's like 2 times 1, then add the zeroes," I told him.

"Two times 1 is 2, plus five zeroes, that's 200,000 problems a day!" Mask gasped.

I sighed again, this time at his lousy math skills, also a result of wussy Western parenting.

"There are 3 zeroes," I corrected. "She was doing 2,000 problems a night, not 200,000."

Mark just shook his head. He couldn't comprehend anything over 20.

I realized that the tiger mother method would not last long in my house for two reasons: 1. I would strangle Mark by the third day of insisting he complete his homework, extra credit and drum lessons for more than 20 minutes, and 2. I might strangle myself before putting in as many hours of slave-driving as that mom in the book did.

So I guess the final conclusion is that yes, Mark and I are both products of wimpy Western parenting. My kid probably won't ever play drums onstage at Carnegie Hall or come in first place in the spelling bee. (He got kicked out early for spelling "ounce" wrong--"I put the 'T' in the wrong place," he explained. "There is no 'T' in 'ounce'!" I cried.)

But the upside is, now I have a standard to work up to (thank you, Tiger Mother!). And I have all summer to drill him on his multiplication tables.

Maybe there's some hope yet...