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Children See, Children Do

Seems like these days, our children's behavior is 
becoming less of a problem than our own.

What Secret Asian Girl is Reading Now: Sarah's Key

I was just complaining to my co-workers that I need to stop reading crap (and by this I mean all that fast food, formulaic, co-authored pablum churned out by NY Times bestseller authors) when this book came along.  Sarah's Key by Tatiana De Rosnay is one of those rare, can't-put-down novels that grabs you right from the start and ushers you through the character's journey instead of stringing you along to stretch a weak story. There's nothing weak about the storyline here: In 1942, a Jewish family living in Paris is growing accustomed to having family members abruptly taken in for questioning. To prepare for the inevitable, the father hides in the cellar nightly, telling his wife and two young children to pretend they don't know where he is.  Even if he is taken in, he assures them, it will just be for a night or two. In mid July, French police, complicit with German occupied soldiers, round up thousands of Jews, mostly women and children, and keep them at the Vélodrome d'Hiver, a bicycle stadium outside of Paris. Their final destination: Auschwitz. Vél d'Hiv, as the roundup comes to be known, is a shameful black smear on the city's history and Parisians, then and today, strive to erase the memory. But back in 1942, the young family, thinking this is just one more overnight interrogation, cooperates with French police and go with them, all except for 4-year old Michel, who hides in the children's secret cupboard. Sarah, his 10-year old sister, locks him in, hoping to protect him for the night. She plans to get the key to her father when he comes out of the cellar. When Sarah's father runs out and insists on going with his family, Sarah is faced with the horrifying realization that she may have entombed her little brother in the cupboard, unless she can find a way back to unlock him. The story switches from then to present day, as displaced American writer Julia Jarmond prepares to move into a renovated Parisian apartment once owned by a Jewish family. Julia's research reveals the name of the family and Sarah's sad story but more importantly, an eye-opening account of an event in history that many would like to forget. Julia's obsession with finding out what happened 60 years ago leads her to Sarah's personal story and how her own family is connected to it. I only have one small complaint about the construction of the this novel and that's the end where the author needed to tie up the ends and get out.  Instead, it sort of meanders through another few years then stops. But overall, I found myself staying up until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning to find out what happens when the cupboard is finally reopened and how Sarah's key unlocks other secrets in Julia's life as well. Despite the setting, I wouldn't categorize this book as holocaust fiction, although without an event as traumatizing as that it's doubtful this story would ever have been plausible. If you're looking to shake off winter boredom but you can't find anything substantial that's not about vampires or millionaire playboy assassins, this is a good start.

Tiger Mom: Declawed

Okay, let's talk about it. First, I have to confess that I haven't read this book, but its highly controversial subject has been all over the news lately. I have read excerpts from the book, however, and believe me, I know how this story goes down. Amy Chua's Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is as much a self promotion of the methods many Chinese parents utilize in child raising in order to achieve perfection as it is a bitter criticism of the way Western parents...don't. Her exacting and often brutal methods of raising her two daughters is bordering, in my opinion, on child abuse. To not allow children to exercise their right to be children, make mistakes, and enjoy the all-too-brief wonders of childhood is tragic. Ms. Chua tells a story about her daughter presenting her with a homemade birthday card. The childishly scrawled card was summarily rejected with the admonishment: Do this again. You can do better. Forget sentiment, forget the feelings behind the gift. It wasn't perfect. The author rationalizes her actions by saying, "You can't argue with the results."  Maybe I can't, but I'm sure a slew of psychiatrists will able to when these poor kids grow up and try to figure out why they feel so worthless.  Results are not the litmus test for happiness. Success...what is it, really?  How much money you make? The title on your business card?  Now, if you're going to argue that Asian (not just Chinese) students don't surpass other ethnic groups in terms of academic achievement, stop right here. It's a stereotype, a prejudice, a blanket racial epithet....and it's all true. Mostly. Having said that, I personally, never fit into the category. My grades were so-so (maybe exemplary by comparative standards) but certainly didn't live up to what you'd imagine a little Chinese/Japanese girl to produce. I've always been aware of the expectations but my parents were not the overbearing, perfection-demanding type. They never said, "You must be excellent," but it was implied.  Looking back, I'm not sure if the expectation came from them or me.  My sister, however, did fit the model. Perfect grades, perfect student...good citizen of the Model Minority. Maybe she bore the brunt of my parents' hopes, freeing me to pursue a more social life in high school. Nevertheless, if my parents had followed the handbook of the Tiger Mom, I'm certain I would have rebelled, as apparently, did one of the daughters in the book. I think one of the reasons people resent Tiger Mom is that she is unapologetic and downright smug about her methods. She insists that her own immigrant parents expected the same performance standards from her and it was "the best gift they could have given me."  I'm sure they wanted her to be happy, I'm sure they believed, like many immigrants with less opportunities in their own country, that the way to the American dream was via academic success. I agree that the Western emphasis on individual fulfillment can produce spoiled, selfish Me kids. The current trend towards permissive parenting: letting kids run wild everywhere, afraid to correct bad behavior and overcompensating small achievements (clapping for using the potty - good grief!) is producing a generation of kids who don't understand why things aren't handed to them for their meager effort. After all, my parents treated me like a superstar, why doesn't the world? I've said it before: If you give everything to your child; do everything for them, you teach them to TAKE. They never learn how to GIVE.  It's sickening and frightening. But surely there's a place in the middle between the two extremes of Tiger Mom and American Clueless? While we wrestle and argue about the best way to give our kids better than we had, a whole generation of brilliant, capable and self-sufficient kids forget that they have a brain that belongs completely and totally to them, and, if allowed, will find their own way - maybe not what we would choose for ourselves, but wholly their own. And they'll be surprised to find that it's good enough.