Tiger mums, helicopter parents and modern child-rearing
angst
Chong
Siow Ann AUG 20, 2016,
At this present moment, we are all very much taken up with
the talented and wholesome Joseph Schooling in whom the whole country has taken
such proprietary pride. There is no doubt that much has gone into the making of
what he is today. Other than the good luck of having good genes, and armed with
grit and steely discipline, he has access to top-notch training and, as
important, he has loving , effective and supportive parents who - let's face it
- are unusual and remarkable in their abiding faith in and sacrificial
commitment to their only child's dream. Had his parents quashed this seemingly
improbable childhood dream, and insisted - perhaps as most other well- meaning
parents would - on him focusing on his academic studies so that he could get a
"real", conventional and safe job like a doctor, lawyer, or engineer,
we would probably not have our very first Olympic gold medallist and true- blue
Singaporean sporting hero.
HELICOPTER PARENTS
Within two generations, Singapore has catapulted itself into
the First World. Meritocracy has been the organising principle of that
transformation; and for better or worse, it has also been imprinted into our
psyche.
With growing affluence and with most couples having fewer
children, the latter have become the most precious of all possessions and, in
tandem, parenting has become a very deliberate, self-conscious and angst-riven
activity - particularly with the so-called helicopter parenting which is that odd
amalgam of pampering and achievement pressure. Overprotective, over-
controlling and intrusive, these helicopter parents would hover and keep their
children on their radar screen: orchestrating and monitoring their activities,
and swooping to blast away any obstacles in their path.
Sheep-like, disempowered and bereft of any sense of agency,
these children are ferried, guided and nudged along the highways and byways of
a demanding terrain of academic and extra-curricular activities. Having imbibed
the ambitions of their parents and squinting through the parental prism, they
see only one narrow path to success in life. The consequence - as we are told
by concerned scholars and educators in a slew of scholarly studies,
best-selling books and newspaper and magazine articles - is that these children
who are consumed with the fear of not measuring up, don't learn to cope
effectively with problems nor do they know how to soothe themselves when they
are distressed.
There is "declining student resilience" and
"emotional fragility", according to the Boston College psychologist
Peter Gray. "Students are afraid to fail; they do not take risks; they
need to be certain about things," he wrote of the students in the United
States and the growing mental health crisis among them. "For many of them,
failure is seen as catastrophic and unacceptable. External measures of success
are more important than learning and autonomous development."
A five-year study from the National University of Singapore
published in the Journal Of Personality this year showed that local children of
intrusive parents who have high academic expectations of them are likely to be
more self-critical and more inclined to feel that they fall short. "The
child may become afraid of making the slightest mistake and will blame himself
or herself for not being 'perfect'," said the study's lead investigator
Ryan Hong, who warned bleakly that "it increases the risk of the child
developing symptoms of depression, anxiety and even suicide in very serious cases".
Other research elsewhere has shown that students with
"helicopter" parents are more likely to be medicated for anxiety and
depression.
TIGER MUMS
To a certain extent, some parents may feel as hapless as
their children, being compelled as they were in a meritocratic elitist society
where - so goes the popular narrative - the best chance of material success in
later life is attaining the requisite academic credentials earlier in life. And
which parent would not be beset by that raft of guilt, uncertainty and anxiety
of not doing enough in securing that head start for their child?
But still there is a general feeling that such values and
expectations are wrong. The tendency is to blame the education system for being
that crucible of feverish competition and high pressure.
There have been many calls for changes. As The Straits Times
editorial of July 16 said, the recent revamp of the PSLE nurtures the hope that
primary education should be for children "to develop their passion for
learning, grow in values and character, and explore their strengths and
interests".
That sounds intuitively and sensibly right but there is a
salutary lesson to be learnt from the experience of the world's most powerful
nation. Americans have been drilled to respect the individuality of their
children, to support them in their self-chosen passions, and to boost their
self-esteem which is supposed to make them learn better.
But as the American journalist Elizabeth Kolbert pointed out
in her piece in The New Yorker a few years ago: "After a generation or so
of applying this theory, we have the results. Just about the only category in
which American students outperform the competition is self-regard."
She highlighted a study by the Brookings Institution that
compared students' own assessments of their abilities in maths with their
actual scores on a standardised test.
Nearly 40 per cent of American students declared that they
usually do well in mathematics, but only 7 per cent of them actually did well
enough on the test to qualify as advanced.
In contrast, 18 per cent of Singaporean students said they
usually did well in maths; 44 per cent qualified as advanced on the test, with
even the least self-confident Singaporean students outscoring the most
self-confident Americans.
As Ms Kolbert commented wryly: "You can say it's sad
that kids in Singapore are so beaten down that they can't appreciate their own
accomplishments. But you've got to give them this: At least they get the math
right."
And it's not just maths - American students are far from the
top in international rankings for excellence in science. This Western orthodoxy
of nurturing the self-esteem of the children and allowing them unfettered
expression is anathema to Amy Chua, Yale law professor and author of that
controversial book, Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother, where she expounded her
exacting Chinese child-rearing of her two high-achieving daughters.
She argued that the sort of parenting which emphasises
self-esteem without an accompanying insistence on actual accomplishment will
set the children up to accept mediocrity. And it has another darker implication
- a society that nurtures and blithely accepts unearned self-esteem could turn
out entitled narcissists and weaken its global competitiveness.
The changes to Singapore's own education system are made in
the hope that our children will have a less burdened childhood. But there is, I
think, another intent, which is to help them be more creative, more original
and more imaginative as adults - attributes that are essential for a "knowledge
economy".
Let's hope that it will achieve all that, though Amy Chua's
stern assertion might be something to be borne in mind.
However, being what we are, it is unlikely that our tiger
mums and cubs would be an endangered species any time soon.
