【中文标题】虎妈：用中国的方式教育孩子（中西方教育理念比对系列文章之四）
【原文标题】Tiger Mothers: Raising Children The Chinese Way
【登载媒体】NPR
【原文作者】Maureen Corrigan
【原文链接】http://www.npr.org/2011/01/11/132833376/tiger-mothers-raising-children-the-chinese-way
Amy Chua肯定是个疯子。有哪个母亲会把7岁女儿的玩具搬上汽车，并跟孩子说，如果第二天她还不能演奏一个复杂的钢琴曲，就要把这些玩具一件件地捐赠给救世军？哪个母亲会说自己的女儿是“废物”？哪个母亲会像Chua告诉读者那样，认为“A-是个糟糕的成绩”？哪个母亲会允许孩子从事的唯一活动是争取奖牌，而且还必须是金牌？
用中国方式而不是西方的方式教育孩子的母亲究竟是什么样的？Chua在她的回忆录《虎妈战歌》中，记述了她贯彻中国教育方式的经历，尽管看似疯狂，也有令人着迷的地方。Chua的声音听起来就好像一个开朗、博学的连环杀手——记得《沉默的羔羊》中的汉尼拔吗——他在向别人详细说明如何肢解下一个受害者，就好像在阐述一件极为正常的行为。《虎妈战歌》中另外一个吸引人的地方在于，Chua对自己的疯狂行为都有一些解释，这些解释足够撼动那些采取温和教育方式的父母们的自信心。相信我，《虎妈战歌》会引发一系列围绕Chua的粗暴关爱方式的书籍和博客，包括严厉禁止西方特色的溺爱，比如在外过夜、参加聚会、参加演奏小提琴和钢琴之外的课外活动。
Chua回忆录的背景故事是：她是中国移民的后代，现任耶鲁法学院的教授，出版过两本有关民主自由市场和帝国没落的“智囊”类畅销书。Chua和她的耶鲁大学教授同事、作家Jed Rubenfeld结婚之后，他们决定用犹太人和罕见的“中国方式”教育孩子。父母强制给予惩罚性的压力，以达成优秀，而优秀反过来会产生满足感，用Chua的话来说，这是一个“良性循环”。这种策略的成功性很难遭受质疑。大女儿是一个钢琴天才，14岁的时候在卡耐基音乐厅演出。稍有叛逆情绪的二女儿是一个有天赋的小提琴演奏家。Chua对女儿要求极为严格，即使在假期中，也必须每天至少练习三个小时。她会提前打电话为Sophia在酒店大堂或者地下室中预约钢琴。Chua从不控制自己批评女儿的欲望，以下是她的书中众多具有煽动性的言论之一：
事实是，中国父母会做一些在西方人看来难以置信的事情，有些事情甚至可以到法院去起诉。中国母亲会对她的女儿说：“嘿，胖子，减减肥吧。”而西方父母不得不拐弯抹角地提及这个话题，比如讲讲“健康”啦，绝对不会说出“肥”这个字。然而结果却是他们的孩子们不得不接受饮食紊乱和负面自我形象的治疗。……西方父母关心的是孩子的心灵。中国父母不是这样。他们表现的很强势、不脆弱，因此他们的行为方式截然不同。
Amy Chua是耶鲁大学法学院的教授，两本有关全球化和民主的书的作者。
就像Chua自己承认的那样，中国教育方式不是建立在愉快的基础上，在面对失败时，也无计可施。（书中最滑稽的一段是她讲述，如何对她那两条笨拙的萨摩耶犬（译者注：温顺、坚忍的代名词）施加中国的教育方式。）
我坐在客厅的沙发上，读着Chua回忆录的最后一段。我12岁的女儿跑下楼下，说“看书看够了”，因为她还练习了笛子，所以她现在要看电视补偿一下。现在正播放迪斯尼电影。Chua恰好在书中刻薄地评论了“西方”迪斯尼情节：
“在迪斯尼电影中，（用功的孩子）总是要陷入麻烦，然后意识到人生并不仅仅是遵守规则和赢取奖励。大彻大悟之后，他们会脱掉衣裳，扑入大海或者其它什么地方。但这仅仅是迪斯尼用自己的方式迎合那些从未赢取任何成就的人。成功让你就机会自由地选择，比如选择不奔向大海。”
我看看女儿，对坐在电视机前的她产生出一种复杂的情绪，我没有去强迫她进入“良性循环”的状态。我估计卡耐基音乐厅在短期内不会给我们发演出邀请函了。
原文：
Amy Chua may well be nuts. What kind of a mother hauls her then-7-year-old daughter's dollhouse out to the car and tells the kid that the dollhouse is going to be donated to the Salvation Army piece by piece if the daughter doesn't master a difficult piano composition by the next day? What kind of a mother informs her daughter that she's "garbage"? And what kind of mother believes, as Chua tells readers she does, that: "an A- is a bad grade; ... the only activities your children should be permitted to do are those in which they can eventually win a medal; and ... that medal must be gold"?
What kind of a mother? Why, a mother who's raising her kids the Chinese, rather than the Western, way. In her new memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Chua recounts her adventures in Chinese parenting, and — nuts though she may be — she's also mesmerizing. Chua's voice is that of a jovial, erudite serial killer — think Hannibal Lecter — who's explaining how he's going to fillet his next victim, as though it's the most self-evidently normal behavior. That's the other gripping aspect of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother: There's method to Chua's madness — enough method to stir up self-doubt in readers who subscribe to more nurturing parenting styles. Trust me, Battle Hymn is going to be a book club and parenting blog phenomenon; there will be fevered debate over Chua's tough love strategies, which include ironclad bans on such Western indulgences as sleepovers, play dates, and any extracurricular activities except practicing musical instruments ... which must be the violin or piano.
The back story to Chua's memoir is this: She is the daughter of Chinese immigrants and is now a professor at Yale Law School and the author of two best-selling "big-think" books on free-market democracy and the fall of empires. When Chua married her husband, fellow Yale law professor and novelist Jed Rubenfeld, they agreed that their children would be raised Jewish and reared "the Chinese way," in which punishingly hard work — enforced by parents — yields excellence; excellence, in turn, yields satisfaction in what Chua calls a "virtuous circle." The success of this strategy is hard to dispute. Older daughter Sophia is a piano prodigy who played Carnegie Hall when she was 14 or so. The second, more rebellious daughter, Lulu, is a gifted violinist. Chua rode the girls hard, making sure they practiced at least three hours a day even on vacations, when she would call ahead to arrange access to pianos for Sophia in hotel lobby bars and basement storage rooms. Chua also rarely refrained from criticizing her daughters, and in one of the many provocative passages that fill her book, she explains:
Chinese parents can do things that would seem unimaginable — even legally actionable — to Westerners. Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, "Hey fatty — lose some weight." By contrast, Western parents have to tiptoe around the issue, talking in terms of "health" and never ever mentioning the f-word, and their kids still end up in therapy for eating disorders and negative self-image. ... Western parents are concerned about their children's psyches. Chinese parents aren't. They assume strength, not fragility, and as a result they behave very differently.
Amy Chua is the author of two books on globalization and democracy and is a professor at Yale Law School.
As Chua admits, though, the Chinese model doesn't dwell on happiness, nor does it deal well with failure. (Some of the most hilarious parts of her memoir deal with her attempts to apply Chinese parenting methods to the family's two dopey Samoyed puppies.)
I was on my living room couch, reading the end of Chua's memoir, when my 12-year-old daughter came downstairs and announced that she had "done enough reading" for one day and that since she had also practiced flute (for 15 minutes) she was going to kick back and watch TV — in this case, a made-for-TV Disney movie. Chua tartly sums up the stereotypically "Western" Disney plot this way:
"In Disney movies," she says, the [studious kid] always has to have a breakdown and realize that life is not all about following rules and winning prizes, and then take off her clothes and run into the ocean or something like that. But that's just Disney's way of appealing to all the people who never win any prizes. Winning prizes gives you opportunities, and that's freedom — not running into the ocean."
I looked over at my daughter and had mixed feelings about her just chillin' in front of the TV, rather than plugging away in that virtuous circle of enforced practice. I guess we won't be sending out the invitations for Carnegie Hall anytime soon.
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发表于 2011-1-25 13:03
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发表于 2011-1-25 14:26
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