来源：钱江晚报 2011-1-22 A0013版：科教·教育
作者：章清

　　“不听话把你送给蔡美儿领养”，自耶鲁大学法学教授蔡美儿（Amy Chua），出书及撰文大谈严厉管教女儿方式后，这位自称虎妈的华裔母亲成为全球激烈辩论的焦点，而且持续至今，上周本报就此做过相关报道（详见本报1月13日B12、B13版）。

　　严厉管教的凶妈妈蔡美儿不准两个女儿看电视，不准跟玩伴出游、不准成绩拿不到A，甚至骂女儿是“垃圾”，令许多人震惊、愤怒。有人拿来取笑，也有人相挺。不少人借此在网络上叙述自己童年的故事和小时候受到的压力。许多人从蔡美儿的描述中省察自己和父母。

　　时代杂志网站指出，报道出来一个多星期，全球已有上百万人通过网络阅读了相关报道，五千多人发表评论。《纽约时报》1月14日对虎妈话题的报道，到1月16日仍是转载排行榜榜首。而《虎妈的战歌》一书在亚马逊网上已经位列畅销书第六了。

　　在相关报道刊登后，虎妈就对媒体表示，她女儿要出来为母亲澄清，但被虎妈阻止了。结果1月18日《纽约邮报》以公开信的方式，刊登了大女儿蔡思慧为母亲的辩护。

　　有人看了原价26.9美元的书，说虎妈其实在书中是因为出现二女儿叛逆，开始反思。书没有那么夸张，符合中美妈妈普遍的教育观，对孩子宽严都有。

　　从她女儿的公开信里看出，虎妈不全是她在媒体里表现出来一味严厉的样子。
　　　　　　　
　　以下是蔡思慧在《纽约邮报》上发表的标题为《我为何深爱我管教严格的华裔母亲》一文的摘要：

　　亲爱的虎妈：你的回忆录自刊出后，遭受众多批评，问题在于有些人无法体会你的幽默，以为你说的一切都是真的，推测我和妹妹受到一位邪恶母亲的压迫，但那绝非事实。

　　不过，外界很难真正了解我们家庭的实况，他们听不到我们彼此的谈笑声，也看不到我们享用炒饭加汉堡的美食，更无法想像一家四口加上两只小狗，挤在一张床上为下载哪些电影争论不休的有趣画面。

　　我承认我有一位不可违抗的母亲，但现在18岁了，即将离开老虎笼上大学，我很高兴你和父亲如此教养我们，理由有以下几点：

　　许多人指控你只会培养不会自我思考的机械化小孩，但我的看法相反，我认为你的严格作风让我们更独立。我记得有一次钢琴比赛我走上台后非常紧张，你就小声叮咛我“放轻松，只要全力以赴，不管结果如何”。

　　每个人似乎认为艺术属于天分，但你却教育我们，即使是创意亦需努力。我的同学都会参加我的钢琴演奏会，当然大部分人也是为了会后可品尝你做的水饺；我在卡内基音乐厅表演后，听到同学齐声欢呼，还感动流泪。

　　进入高中后，你也了解是让我长大成人的时候了。所有女同学在九年级开始学习化妆后，我也走进商店购买化妆品，并学习如何使用。当你见到我第一次画眼线时很惊讶，但并不在意，你让我历经成长的仪式。

　　另一个我经常听到的批评，是指你造成子女视野狭隘，但事实上，你和父亲却教导我为求知而求知，不附带其他条件或目的。在高三我选修军事历史课程，有项作业是要访问有参战经验人士，我本想直接访问有第二次世界大战经验的祖父，但你却认为这是偷懒，最后我访问了一位以色列伞兵，他的故事改变我的一些人生观。

　　最后，我想要让生活有意义的愿望，是一个普世认知。我认为这与成就大小或自我满足没有关系，而是要自己不断努力，把潜能发挥到极致。假如我明天就离世，我会感觉我已把自己的生命活出110%。为此我感谢你，虎妈。　

http://zjdaily.zjol.com.cn/qjwb/html/2011-01/22/content_691239.htm?div=-1


Why I love my strict Chinese mom

The teenager at the center of NYC’s hottest controversy speaks out in defense of her mother
By SOPHIA CHUA-RUBENFELD
Last Updated: 11:36 AM, January 18, 2011
Posted: 11:29 PM, January 17, 2011




Writer Amy Chua shocked the world with her provocative essay, “Why Chinese Mothers are Superior,” when it appeared in the Wall Street Journal earlier this month.

The article, excerpted from her new book, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” described “how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids.” It led with a manifesto: “Here are some things my daughters, Sophia and Louisa, were never allowed to do: attend a sleepover; have a playdate; be in a school play; complain about not being in a school play; watch TV or play computer games; choose their own extracurricular activities; get any grade less than an A; not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama; play any instrument other than the piano or violin; not play the piano or violin.”

While Chua says she has received death threats for her comments (one critic called her the “worst mother ever”), the question remains: What do her own children think? Now Chua’s eldest daughter, Sophia Chua-Rubenfeld, 18, tells her side of the story exclusively to The Post . . .

Dear Tiger Mom,

You’ve been criticized a lot since you published your memoir, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.” One problem is that some people don’t get your humor. They think you’re serious about all this, and they assume Lulu and I are oppressed by our evil mother. That is so not true. Every other Thursday, you take off our chains and let us play math games in the basement.

But for real, it’s not their fault. No outsider can know what our family is really like. They don’t hear us cracking up over each other’s jokes. They don’t see us eating our hamburgers with fried rice. They don’t know how much fun we have when the six of us — dogs included — squeeze into one bed and argue about what movies to download from Netflix.

I admit it: Having you as a mother was no tea party. There were some play dates I wish I’d gone to and some piano camps I wish I’d skipped. But now that I’m 18 and about to leave the tiger den, I’m glad you and Daddy raised me the way you did. Here’s why.

A lot of people have accused you of producing robot kids who can’t think for themselves. Well, that’s funny, because I think those people are . . . oh well, it doesn’t matter. At any rate, I was thinking about this, and I came to the opposite conclusion: I think your strict parenting forced me to be more independent. Early on, I decided to be an easy child to raise. Maybe I got it from Daddy — he taught me not to care what people think and to make my own choices — but I also decided to be who I want to be. I didn’t rebel, but I didn’t suffer all the slings and arrows of a Tiger Mom, either. I pretty much do my own thing these days — like building greenhouses downtown, blasting Daft Punk in the car with Lulu and forcing my boyfriend to watch “Lord of the Rings” with me over and over — as long as I get my piano done first.

Everybody’s talking about the birthday cards we once made for you, which you rejected because they weren’t good enough. Funny how some people are convinced that Lulu and I are scarred for life. Maybe if I had poured my heart into it, I would have been upset. But let’s face it: The card was feeble, and I was busted. It took me 30 seconds; I didn’t even sharpen the pencil. That’s why, when you rejected it, I didn’t feel you were rejecting me. If I actually tried my best at something, you’d never throw it back in my face.

I remember walking on stage for a piano competition. I was so nervous, and you whispered, “Soso, you worked as hard as you could. It doesn’t matter how you do.”

Everybody seems to think art is spontaneous. But Tiger Mom, you taught me that even creativity takes effort. I guess I was a little different from other kids in grade school, but who says that’s a bad thing? Maybe I was just lucky to have nice friends. They used to put notes in my backpack that said “Good luck at the competition tomorrow! You’ll be great!” They came to my piano recitals — mostly for the dumplings you made afterward — and I started crying when I heard them yelling “bravo!” at Carnegie Hall.

When I got to high school, you realized it was time to let me grow up a little. All the girls started wearing makeup in ninth grade. I walked to CVS to buy some and taught myself how to use it. It wasn’t a big deal. You were surprised when I came down to dinner wearing eyeliner, but you didn’t mind. You let me have that rite of passage.

Another criticism I keep hearing is that you’re somehow promoting tunnel vision, but you and Daddy taught me to pursue knowledge for its own sake. In junior year, I signed myself up for a military-history elective (yes, you let me take lots of classes besides math and physics). One of our assignments was to interview someone who had experienced war. I knew I could get a good grade interviewing my grandparents, whose childhood stories about World War II I’d heard a thousand times. I mentioned it to you, and you said, “Sophia, this is an opportunity to learn something new. You’re taking the easy way out.” You were right, Tiger Mom. In the end, I interviewed a terrifying Israeli paratrooper whose story changed my outlook on life. I owe that experience to you.

There’s one more thing: I think the desire to live a meaningful life is universal. To some people, it’s working toward a goal. To others, it’s enjoying every minute of every day. So what does it really mean to live life to the fullest? Maybe striving to win a Nobel Prize and going skydiving are just two sides of the same coin. To me, it’s not about achievement or self-gratification. It’s about knowing that you’ve pushed yourself, body and mind, to the limits of your own potential. You feel it when you’re sprinting, and when the piano piece you’ve practiced for hours finally comes to life beneath your fingertips. You feel it when you encounter a life-changing idea, and when you do something on your own that you never thought you could. If I died tomorrow, I would die feeling I’ve lived my whole life at 110 percent.

And for that, Tiger Mom, thank you.

Reported by Mandy Stadtmiller



Read more: http://www.nypost.com/p/entertainment/why_love_my_strict_chinese_mom_uUvfmLcA5eteY0u2KXt7hM#ixzz1Btx6nAuv