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The Hybrid Tiger
Why do Asian and Asian-American students consistently perform so well on standardized tests? Why are students of Asian descent disproportionately admitted to America's top colleges?This informative and entertainingly written comparison of educational methods in America and China answers these questions and more, while assessing the strengths and weaknesses of each culture's distinctly different education systems. Education expert QuanyuHuang notes that both Asian and Asian American students excel early on at mastering lesson material and test-taking, whereas many of their non-Asian American peers do not perform as well. The author also points out that American students generally demonstrate far more creativity and independence than students in China, where conformity and rote learning are emphasized. This is evident from the American record of award-winning innovations and discoveries. By contrast, the Chinese educational system has not yet produced a Nobel Prize winner in science. For Americans to achieve more consistent academic success at primary and secondary grade levels, the author recommends a blend of the virtues inherent in both cultures. He says this is exactly what often gives Asian American students an edge. They have the advantage of an Asian heritage that drives them to succeed and an American culture that teaches them creativity and independent thinking. Above all, Asian families extoll the virtues of education; this attitude is a key component in the success of these students. Drawing on his own experiences as an immigrant to this country in the 1980s, and as a parent to a son raised in the US, the author concludes by suggesting that Americans rediscover the immigrant attitudes of their ancestors several generations ago. Like Asian immigrants today, they too saw education as a ladder to success in American society. Students anywhere will thrive when their families reinforce the seriousness of education and help children develop the study and discipline habits that ensure academic success.
272 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2014
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September 6, 2015
I received a review copy of this book free from the publisher, Prometheus Books. I think it’s pretty clear from how many stars I did(n’t) give it that this did not bias me in its favor.
Many aspects of Hybrid Tiger are odd and off-putting. Its structure, for instance. There are chapters within chapters. Those chapter-chapters are titled, and they have numbered sections. Sorry to sound narrow-minded, but this is weird.
The chapters are frequently interrupted by mock dialogues Huang created, “presenting questions I believe a typical set of parents from each culture [Chinese and American] would ask about my arguments.” Initially, I found these dialogues annoying because they broke up my reading experience. I didn’t understand why, if he thought he had such a good idea as to what kind of questions parents would have about his ideas, he didn’t simply address those questions in the text. Eventually, I found them annoying because they became really, really self-serving. Huang literally writes himself applause lines in these dialogues, and then modestly accepts the applause he’s giving himself. Except he’s saying that I’m applauding him, and excuse me but I’m really, really not.
At one point, the American parents say in reply to one of his arguments, “Interesting!” That’s it. That’s their line. It gives Huang the chance to go on being “interesting” without making his paragraph too huge. In another alleged dialogue, the American parents’ side of the dialogue is this:
“Very interesting!”
“A very meaningful exchange.”
“She sounds like a very wise and nice mom.”
Seriously. Even if the rest of the book were brilliant, it’s impossible to read this without thinking how full of himself this guy is.
And it turns out that the rest of the book isn’t brilliant.
Most of it is just muddled. Huang insists, in his title and periodically throughout the book, that he thinks a hybrid approach to education is best – neither entirely Chinese nor entirely American, but a blend of the strengths of both. Chinese students are outperforming the pants off American students when it comes to standardized tests, but where are the Chinese Nobel prizes? Where is a Chinese Steve Jobs, or Bill Gates?
“As good as Chinese education seems to be at producing high-performing students in the early stages of education,” Huang points out, “American education excels at creating superstar academics in the later stages.”
So what’s his conclusion? What’s the perfect hybrid?
American parents should be like Chinese ones.
That’s it. That’s all. That’s the whole “secret.” Be a “Chinese” parent (regardless of ethnicity), but do it in America. And then some kind of miracle will happen, and your kid will score a million points on every test and become a doctor named Steve Jobs. A Steve Jobs who finishes college, of course.
Every time Huang brings up examples of how Chinese parenting and education differs from American, he applauds Chinese methods and urges them on his readers. It never occurs to him that maybe it’s a zero-sum game – maybe a student can’t spend hours every day focused solely on excelling at standardized tests AND possess (or hang on to) the sort of originality of mind that’s required of innovators.
He describes in great detail how he got his son performing two years ahead of his classmates in math. He adds, almost parenthetically, that his son now hates math and is grateful that, having finished college, he’ll never have to do any ever again. Conclusion? Huang’s Chinese-based parenting and teaching is awesome, and we should all be like him.
Really?
Americans are also wrong in focusing too much on the individual and not enough on the group, Huang insists. (Again – where’s the hybrid?) He lambasts a Chinese athlete who refused to throw a match as she was instructed to by her coach in a world championship. Huang says that “the tactic of throwing matches to arrange favorable matchups in future encounters is very similar to changing players in football, basketball, volleyball, or soccer.” Uh, yeah, maybe – except THOSE ARE ALL LEGAL. They’re aboveboard. Throwing matches isn’t “critical strategizing and decision making [sic].” It’s lying.
So, yeah. I could easily spend this entire review being annoyed because Huang promises readers a hybrid strategy and instead spends the whole book talking about how awesome he is. But this book doesn’t just fail to deliver on its own stated premise. It completely misrepresents another and much better book about Western vs. Chinese ideas about parenting and education. And it does so in such a way that readers who haven’t read Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother will be led to believe she’s a horrifying, abusive parent.
Huang supposedly read Chua’s book. He makes it clear throughout his own book that he has no sense of humor, so I suppose it’s understandable that he wouldn’t understand her work. His utter lack of comprehension is still annoying.
He spends an entire page talking about how Chua isn’t a “real” tiger mother because tigers are very gentle with their cubs. “Amy Chua’s decision to refer to herself as the Tiger Mother is a confusing choice,” he concludes. Um, not really. Not if you read the chapter where Chua points out that she’s talking about having been born in the Year of the Tiger. Her “tiger” qualities are astrological, not zoological. She refers to this several times in the course of her short book. It’s kind of hard to miss.
Ever hear that saying, “You have a right to your own opinion, but you don’t have a right to your own facts”? That applies to Huang's work.
Huang insists repeatedly that Chua’s ideas and parenting methods are not, not, NOT Chinese. In order to do this, he has to miss her point so hard and twist her words so vigorously I’m surprised he doesn’t sprain both wrists and give himself a concussion in the process.
That’s acceptable, if regrettable.
You know what’s not okay? Saying she did horrible things THAT SHE DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO.
Sorry to yell, but this really steamed my clams. In the same chapter in which Huang says, “Spanking implies love without saying it outright,” he insists Amy Chua did something much worse to her kids than any physical punishment could ever be:
She detailed in her book how she destroyed her daughter’s toys one by one in front of her. This was incredibly cruel. There’s a saying: "Kids treat toys as their friends; adults treat their friends as toys." Children often sleep with their toys; they talk to them as friends. As a result, destroying these toys in front of your child is a brutal spiritual punishment. If Chua had let her daughter choose between spanking and destroying her toys, I’m certain she would have chosen to be spanked.
I read Chua’s book years ago, when it first came out. I didn’t remember this scene, so I ran to the library and grabbed a copy. It’s a quick read – and it’s an even better book than I remember, but that’s another story for another review.
Guess what? Chua doesn’t do anything remotely like what Huang describes.
True tale of terror: I homeschool my son. Mostly it’s awesome. But we do butt heads a lot, because we have a lot in common. Sounds like a contradiction, but it’s true. We’re both anxious, conscientious, high-strung, and literal-minded. It’s amazing we’ve survived as long as we have living in the same small apartment.
Chua, who spent as much time educating her daughters as any homeschooler I know, had the same sort of relationship with her younger daughter that I do with my son. She and I also have much the same sort of weird parenting humor. I have asked my son if he’s having trouble with math because he’s on drugs. (“Yes, Mom. Lots and lots of drugs.”) I have demanded that he spend more time on his schoolwork and less time with floozies. (“It’s just the one floozy, Mom.”) If you overheard me, you might well conclude that I’m an antifeminist freak and a horrible mother.
Getting back to Amy Chua. She and her younger daughter were butting heads over practicing a particularly difficult piano piece. After a week of drilling, here’s what happened:
Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed, and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu’s dollhouse to the car and told her I’d donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn’t have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day.
What was poor little Lulu’s response to that?
“I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?”
Those aren’t the words of a cowed, abused child. That’s somebody who knows very well her mom is just blowing off steam.
The bulk of Huang’s book is disappointing. The parts where he talks about Amy Chua are actively offensive. She can probably afford to ignore his book. I’d recommend everyone else do so, too.
Many aspects of Hybrid Tiger are odd and off-putting. Its structure, for instance. There are chapters within chapters. Those chapter-chapters are titled, and they have numbered sections. Sorry to sound narrow-minded, but this is weird.
The chapters are frequently interrupted by mock dialogues Huang created, “presenting questions I believe a typical set of parents from each culture [Chinese and American] would ask about my arguments.” Initially, I found these dialogues annoying because they broke up my reading experience. I didn’t understand why, if he thought he had such a good idea as to what kind of questions parents would have about his ideas, he didn’t simply address those questions in the text. Eventually, I found them annoying because they became really, really self-serving. Huang literally writes himself applause lines in these dialogues, and then modestly accepts the applause he’s giving himself. Except he’s saying that I’m applauding him, and excuse me but I’m really, really not.
At one point, the American parents say in reply to one of his arguments, “Interesting!” That’s it. That’s their line. It gives Huang the chance to go on being “interesting” without making his paragraph too huge. In another alleged dialogue, the American parents’ side of the dialogue is this:
“Very interesting!”
“A very meaningful exchange.”
“She sounds like a very wise and nice mom.”
Seriously. Even if the rest of the book were brilliant, it’s impossible to read this without thinking how full of himself this guy is.
And it turns out that the rest of the book isn’t brilliant.
Most of it is just muddled. Huang insists, in his title and periodically throughout the book, that he thinks a hybrid approach to education is best – neither entirely Chinese nor entirely American, but a blend of the strengths of both. Chinese students are outperforming the pants off American students when it comes to standardized tests, but where are the Chinese Nobel prizes? Where is a Chinese Steve Jobs, or Bill Gates?
“As good as Chinese education seems to be at producing high-performing students in the early stages of education,” Huang points out, “American education excels at creating superstar academics in the later stages.”
So what’s his conclusion? What’s the perfect hybrid?
American parents should be like Chinese ones.
That’s it. That’s all. That’s the whole “secret.” Be a “Chinese” parent (regardless of ethnicity), but do it in America. And then some kind of miracle will happen, and your kid will score a million points on every test and become a doctor named Steve Jobs. A Steve Jobs who finishes college, of course.
Every time Huang brings up examples of how Chinese parenting and education differs from American, he applauds Chinese methods and urges them on his readers. It never occurs to him that maybe it’s a zero-sum game – maybe a student can’t spend hours every day focused solely on excelling at standardized tests AND possess (or hang on to) the sort of originality of mind that’s required of innovators.
He describes in great detail how he got his son performing two years ahead of his classmates in math. He adds, almost parenthetically, that his son now hates math and is grateful that, having finished college, he’ll never have to do any ever again. Conclusion? Huang’s Chinese-based parenting and teaching is awesome, and we should all be like him.
Really?
Americans are also wrong in focusing too much on the individual and not enough on the group, Huang insists. (Again – where’s the hybrid?) He lambasts a Chinese athlete who refused to throw a match as she was instructed to by her coach in a world championship. Huang says that “the tactic of throwing matches to arrange favorable matchups in future encounters is very similar to changing players in football, basketball, volleyball, or soccer.” Uh, yeah, maybe – except THOSE ARE ALL LEGAL. They’re aboveboard. Throwing matches isn’t “critical strategizing and decision making [sic].” It’s lying.
So, yeah. I could easily spend this entire review being annoyed because Huang promises readers a hybrid strategy and instead spends the whole book talking about how awesome he is. But this book doesn’t just fail to deliver on its own stated premise. It completely misrepresents another and much better book about Western vs. Chinese ideas about parenting and education. And it does so in such a way that readers who haven’t read Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother will be led to believe she’s a horrifying, abusive parent.
Huang supposedly read Chua’s book. He makes it clear throughout his own book that he has no sense of humor, so I suppose it’s understandable that he wouldn’t understand her work. His utter lack of comprehension is still annoying.
He spends an entire page talking about how Chua isn’t a “real” tiger mother because tigers are very gentle with their cubs. “Amy Chua’s decision to refer to herself as the Tiger Mother is a confusing choice,” he concludes. Um, not really. Not if you read the chapter where Chua points out that she’s talking about having been born in the Year of the Tiger. Her “tiger” qualities are astrological, not zoological. She refers to this several times in the course of her short book. It’s kind of hard to miss.
Ever hear that saying, “You have a right to your own opinion, but you don’t have a right to your own facts”? That applies to Huang's work.
Huang insists repeatedly that Chua’s ideas and parenting methods are not, not, NOT Chinese. In order to do this, he has to miss her point so hard and twist her words so vigorously I’m surprised he doesn’t sprain both wrists and give himself a concussion in the process.
That’s acceptable, if regrettable.
You know what’s not okay? Saying she did horrible things THAT SHE DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO.
Sorry to yell, but this really steamed my clams. In the same chapter in which Huang says, “Spanking implies love without saying it outright,” he insists Amy Chua did something much worse to her kids than any physical punishment could ever be:
She detailed in her book how she destroyed her daughter’s toys one by one in front of her. This was incredibly cruel. There’s a saying: "Kids treat toys as their friends; adults treat their friends as toys." Children often sleep with their toys; they talk to them as friends. As a result, destroying these toys in front of your child is a brutal spiritual punishment. If Chua had let her daughter choose between spanking and destroying her toys, I’m certain she would have chosen to be spanked.
I read Chua’s book years ago, when it first came out. I didn’t remember this scene, so I ran to the library and grabbed a copy. It’s a quick read – and it’s an even better book than I remember, but that’s another story for another review.
Guess what? Chua doesn’t do anything remotely like what Huang describes.
True tale of terror: I homeschool my son. Mostly it’s awesome. But we do butt heads a lot, because we have a lot in common. Sounds like a contradiction, but it’s true. We’re both anxious, conscientious, high-strung, and literal-minded. It’s amazing we’ve survived as long as we have living in the same small apartment.
Chua, who spent as much time educating her daughters as any homeschooler I know, had the same sort of relationship with her younger daughter that I do with my son. She and I also have much the same sort of weird parenting humor. I have asked my son if he’s having trouble with math because he’s on drugs. (“Yes, Mom. Lots and lots of drugs.”) I have demanded that he spend more time on his schoolwork and less time with floozies. (“It’s just the one floozy, Mom.”) If you overheard me, you might well conclude that I’m an antifeminist freak and a horrible mother.
Getting back to Amy Chua. She and her younger daughter were butting heads over practicing a particularly difficult piano piece. After a week of drilling, here’s what happened:
Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed, and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu’s dollhouse to the car and told her I’d donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn’t have "The Little White Donkey" perfect by the next day.
What was poor little Lulu’s response to that?
“I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?”
Those aren’t the words of a cowed, abused child. That’s somebody who knows very well her mom is just blowing off steam.
The bulk of Huang’s book is disappointing. The parts where he talks about Amy Chua are actively offensive. She can probably afford to ignore his book. I’d recommend everyone else do so, too.
February 19, 2014
It’s common knowledge that Chinese students DOMINATE Americans in global education rankings. In international math competitions, the results aren’t even close. The Chinese are in another stratosphere. But this is typically at the elementary – high school level. What fewer people realize is that starting in college and beyond, Americans start to smoke the Chinese, and never look back. As Huang notes, the best colleges and universities are in the U.S. The best math and science research happen here in the U.S., not in China. Meanwhile China has yet to produce even a single Nobel laureate in science.
Why is that? Why do the Chinese do so well in early education and then taper off after high school? According to Huang, the two countries have a lot to learn from each other. Unsurprisingly, he recommends taking the best of both worlds. From China, adopt a strong work ethic, set high expectations at an early age, establish clear goals, and develop strong study habits. From the U.S., adopt encourage creativity, independence, and analytical thinking. Be open to students asking lots of questions--a big no-no in Chinese culture. This is the secret to Huang’s “hybrid” technique. A technique that he very regrettably labels “Co-core synergy education.” Co-core synergy education is a catch phrase that is about as terrible as “Lean in” is good.
Overall, Huang’s methodology makes a lot of sense. It’s a practice I intend on implementing with my own kids. It’s not a surprise that as a parent (and an Asian American no less) I aspire for my children to be able to build a strong work ethic and study skills, but also strong analytical skills, creativity, and independent thinking.
Oddly, some of these very skills seem to be missing in Huang himself. Midway through his book he mentions a conversation he has with a friend in Beijing who is lamenting that his own son “only” has a 95% GPA, evidently placing him in the bottom 5% of his class. Huang tries to cheer up his friend by saying, “You’re the CEO of a large, successful company. What was your class rank when you were his age?” The friend didn’t know but guessed his grade average was 80%. Replies Huang, “That’s it! What are the people who were ranked at the top of your class doing right now? Not much, are they?”
And there’s the rub. If as Huang seems to suggests to his friend, there is NO correlation between getting good grades and success later in life—if a mediocre student with “only” an 80% grade average becomes the CEO of a large, successful company, while those ranked in the top of their class are doing “not much”—then at the VERY least, there must be other skills that drive success beyond getting high grades.
Much of this book reads like a memoir of Huang’s own experience parenting his son, Yan, who as the book was written had just recently graduated from a “top” law school and is now about to work at a large law firm. I can’t help but wonder whether Yan’s law firm experience will be a wakeup call for his dad, who never really addresses what it takes beyond admission into a prestigious university to achieve success later in life. If so, maybe a sequel to Hybrid Tiger is in the works.
Why is that? Why do the Chinese do so well in early education and then taper off after high school? According to Huang, the two countries have a lot to learn from each other. Unsurprisingly, he recommends taking the best of both worlds. From China, adopt a strong work ethic, set high expectations at an early age, establish clear goals, and develop strong study habits. From the U.S., adopt encourage creativity, independence, and analytical thinking. Be open to students asking lots of questions--a big no-no in Chinese culture. This is the secret to Huang’s “hybrid” technique. A technique that he very regrettably labels “Co-core synergy education.” Co-core synergy education is a catch phrase that is about as terrible as “Lean in” is good.
Overall, Huang’s methodology makes a lot of sense. It’s a practice I intend on implementing with my own kids. It’s not a surprise that as a parent (and an Asian American no less) I aspire for my children to be able to build a strong work ethic and study skills, but also strong analytical skills, creativity, and independent thinking.
Oddly, some of these very skills seem to be missing in Huang himself. Midway through his book he mentions a conversation he has with a friend in Beijing who is lamenting that his own son “only” has a 95% GPA, evidently placing him in the bottom 5% of his class. Huang tries to cheer up his friend by saying, “You’re the CEO of a large, successful company. What was your class rank when you were his age?” The friend didn’t know but guessed his grade average was 80%. Replies Huang, “That’s it! What are the people who were ranked at the top of your class doing right now? Not much, are they?”
And there’s the rub. If as Huang seems to suggests to his friend, there is NO correlation between getting good grades and success later in life—if a mediocre student with “only” an 80% grade average becomes the CEO of a large, successful company, while those ranked in the top of their class are doing “not much”—then at the VERY least, there must be other skills that drive success beyond getting high grades.
Much of this book reads like a memoir of Huang’s own experience parenting his son, Yan, who as the book was written had just recently graduated from a “top” law school and is now about to work at a large law firm. I can’t help but wonder whether Yan’s law firm experience will be a wakeup call for his dad, who never really addresses what it takes beyond admission into a prestigious university to achieve success later in life. If so, maybe a sequel to Hybrid Tiger is in the works.
March 22, 2014
Because I'm married to a Chinese Tiger mom, who is viewed as a tyrant by our kids' friends (and sometimes by our kids as well), I never saw a reason to read the famous Amy Chua memoir. (And to be completely honest, having written my own memoir about child-rearing, I felt dismayed by the publicity that title enjoyed.) But the wife suggested that this spin-off might help the rest of the family understand her motives better, and so it's now in circulation among the rest of us.
I found the tone of the opening pages very comfortable, conversational, and persuasive. Huang's purpose is not only to explain the value system that drives so many Asian kids to extraordinary academic success but to suggest that their potential becomes even greater in the context of the less-rigid system we have in the West. In other words, both cultures have something to offer.
Moving through the book, I sometimes felt the prose became a little labored, with Huang taking pains to make seemingly obvious points. For example, several pages are needed to arrive at this insight: "Allowing kids to set their own paths with no guidance isn't good for kids, but forcing them to do things against their will isn't good either. There should be a balance, a healthy mix, of the two approaches." After a few more pages, that balance is identified as parental authority, which is neither lenience nor compulsion. That much seems self-evident, but here's the meat: Parents acquire authority in their children's eyes by their involvement in and even personal sacrifice on behalf of the children's success. I couldn't help feeling touched by the photos of dedicated Chinese parents (e.g., stopping traffic in order to reduce noise while their kiddos are inside taking the all-important college entrance exam) and the examples of 陪读, a phenomenon in which one parent abandons a career in order to study alongside the child and thereby maximize his chance of success. That success then belongs not only to the student but to the whole family.
Come to think of it, that's really what my family did with my first (disabled) child, and is the subject of my book. After that campaign, the effort to keep our younger kids near the top of the class seems almost tepid.
For Huang, I believe, authority translates into a right to expect a superior outcome. There is no question that (in academic terms at least) the Asian parenting style is achieving that outcome in America. A Korean gentleman I know who has a business supplementing the work of zealous parents recently joked that "UCLA" means You See Lots of Asians (I heard on the radio today the percentage there is 40% -- much to the chagrin of affirmative-action advocates). Huang equates that outcome with "winning."
Still, it must be acknowledged that winning may come with unexpected costs. Even among standout successes (he mentions his son Yan and even the pianist Lang Lang), there are indications that perhaps a little damage might have been done along the way. Also, not everybody wins. There's a mother he meets who invested literally everything in preparing her son to pass the college entrance exam. And if by chance the son doesn't pass? She'll do it again. Huang says he didn't have the heart to ask what would happen if the son still did not pass. But I have experience with that, having in earlier years gambled everything on getting into medical school, and falling short (not to mention having mixed results in helping my disabled son). This isn't to say that one shouldn't try, of course! But it needs to be said that disappointments do occur and can be scarring.
I believe the Korean I mention above and Huang too see the limitations in this intense drive for perfection. I believe he wrote his book with the hope of defining a happy median that would benefit families from both cultures. Regardless of whether he's accomplished that, this is a good effort.
I found the tone of the opening pages very comfortable, conversational, and persuasive. Huang's purpose is not only to explain the value system that drives so many Asian kids to extraordinary academic success but to suggest that their potential becomes even greater in the context of the less-rigid system we have in the West. In other words, both cultures have something to offer.
Moving through the book, I sometimes felt the prose became a little labored, with Huang taking pains to make seemingly obvious points. For example, several pages are needed to arrive at this insight: "Allowing kids to set their own paths with no guidance isn't good for kids, but forcing them to do things against their will isn't good either. There should be a balance, a healthy mix, of the two approaches." After a few more pages, that balance is identified as parental authority, which is neither lenience nor compulsion. That much seems self-evident, but here's the meat: Parents acquire authority in their children's eyes by their involvement in and even personal sacrifice on behalf of the children's success. I couldn't help feeling touched by the photos of dedicated Chinese parents (e.g., stopping traffic in order to reduce noise while their kiddos are inside taking the all-important college entrance exam) and the examples of 陪读, a phenomenon in which one parent abandons a career in order to study alongside the child and thereby maximize his chance of success. That success then belongs not only to the student but to the whole family.
Come to think of it, that's really what my family did with my first (disabled) child, and is the subject of my book. After that campaign, the effort to keep our younger kids near the top of the class seems almost tepid.
For Huang, I believe, authority translates into a right to expect a superior outcome. There is no question that (in academic terms at least) the Asian parenting style is achieving that outcome in America. A Korean gentleman I know who has a business supplementing the work of zealous parents recently joked that "UCLA" means You See Lots of Asians (I heard on the radio today the percentage there is 40% -- much to the chagrin of affirmative-action advocates). Huang equates that outcome with "winning."
Still, it must be acknowledged that winning may come with unexpected costs. Even among standout successes (he mentions his son Yan and even the pianist Lang Lang), there are indications that perhaps a little damage might have been done along the way. Also, not everybody wins. There's a mother he meets who invested literally everything in preparing her son to pass the college entrance exam. And if by chance the son doesn't pass? She'll do it again. Huang says he didn't have the heart to ask what would happen if the son still did not pass. But I have experience with that, having in earlier years gambled everything on getting into medical school, and falling short (not to mention having mixed results in helping my disabled son). This isn't to say that one shouldn't try, of course! But it needs to be said that disappointments do occur and can be scarring.
I believe the Korean I mention above and Huang too see the limitations in this intense drive for perfection. I believe he wrote his book with the hope of defining a happy median that would benefit families from both cultures. Regardless of whether he's accomplished that, this is a good effort.
November 14, 2014
I picked this book up from the library. I was intrigued because it appeared to be a "rebuttal" of that silly Amy Chua tiger mom book, so that appealed to me as an Asian American. While this book had some interesting insights and funny anecdotes, these were outweighed by the parts of the book I didn't enjoy.
I appreciate that the author sought to present a balanced approach between the (highly stereotypical) "Chinese" methods of parenting and the (again, highly stereotypical) "American" methods of parenting. But in many parts, he came across as self-aggrandizing and over-praising his own ideas and methods while engaging in transparent false modesty (there were several times he said, "I don't want to brag, but..." followed by a bragging statement). He is of course, understandably proud of his son's life success, but the lavish language praising his son (emphasized by a plethora of passages quoted from his son's, frankly, mediocre writings) were also among the less enjoyable parts of the book.
The least useful parts of the book were the faux "conversations" he would have with "Chinese" and "American" straw man parents at the end of each chapter. I think he was trying to present "takeaways" for his readers, but these contained very little useful information, and honestly just made my eyes glaze over.
Again, I appreciate the effort to try to distill the fundamental differences between "Chinese" and "American" parenting styles, but overall I found it to be a lot of generalization (that frequently made me squirm uncomfortably while reading) and not so much substance.
I appreciate that the author sought to present a balanced approach between the (highly stereotypical) "Chinese" methods of parenting and the (again, highly stereotypical) "American" methods of parenting. But in many parts, he came across as self-aggrandizing and over-praising his own ideas and methods while engaging in transparent false modesty (there were several times he said, "I don't want to brag, but..." followed by a bragging statement). He is of course, understandably proud of his son's life success, but the lavish language praising his son (emphasized by a plethora of passages quoted from his son's, frankly, mediocre writings) were also among the less enjoyable parts of the book.
The least useful parts of the book were the faux "conversations" he would have with "Chinese" and "American" straw man parents at the end of each chapter. I think he was trying to present "takeaways" for his readers, but these contained very little useful information, and honestly just made my eyes glaze over.
Again, I appreciate the effort to try to distill the fundamental differences between "Chinese" and "American" parenting styles, but overall I found it to be a lot of generalization (that frequently made me squirm uncomfortably while reading) and not so much substance.
September 17, 2021
I really apprecuated the author's unique perspective regarding American and Chinese education and his opinion on how to combine the best of both. My favorite takeaway was the importance of being interested and involved in what your child is learning. It always amused me when the author used his own parenting as an example. Of course he would, since we can all speak best about our own experiences. However, he only has one kid. Study references involving hundreds of children would've been more helpful. I was also very interested in some extremes of Chineses education I wasn't aware if (IVs during important exams) and his complete dismissal of Amy Chua's tactics, which consists of many stereotypes of Chinese-American parenting. The most inspiring part was the author's own background story of leaving everything, having nothing, and striving for his family to have a better life. Worth reading if just for that.
May 30, 2019
I did not read this book cover to cover. I consistently find that I lack the time and commitment to do that for nonfiction books. However I did spend a good amount of time perusing the sections of this book that interested me and I thought that the author made some interesting points about differences in the Chinese and American education systems, structure of culture, and values.
I particularly like the author tackled Malcolm Gladwell‘s claims from outliers head on rather than choosing not to address them. Rather than relying on collectivistic rice farming culture and the Chinese language to explain differences in achievement, she describes how Chinese students start younger, invest more time and effort in studying, and the values that their parents instilled in them are focused on education as a way of achieving freedom.
I particularly like the author tackled Malcolm Gladwell‘s claims from outliers head on rather than choosing not to address them. Rather than relying on collectivistic rice farming culture and the Chinese language to explain differences in achievement, she describes how Chinese students start younger, invest more time and effort in studying, and the values that their parents instilled in them are focused on education as a way of achieving freedom.
May 25, 2020
If Huang had presented and organized this as a memoir, I might have found it interesting and enlightening. Instead, he tries to come to major conclusions about Chinese and American cultures using little more than anecdotes.
The dialogues at the end of each chapter are painful. He creates "American parents" who fawn over every idea he presents. I cringed regularly.
Since his assumptions about American child-rearing and values were often either over-generalized or downright wrong, I can only assume the same about his claims about Chinese and Chinese-American parenting.
I'm not saying I didn't learn anything -- I did, but what I learned was largely one family's story during one particular time in history.
Overall, his self-congratulatory tone throughout was off-putting.
The dialogues at the end of each chapter are painful. He creates "American parents" who fawn over every idea he presents. I cringed regularly.
Since his assumptions about American child-rearing and values were often either over-generalized or downright wrong, I can only assume the same about his claims about Chinese and Chinese-American parenting.
I'm not saying I didn't learn anything -- I did, but what I learned was largely one family's story during one particular time in history.
Overall, his self-congratulatory tone throughout was off-putting.
May 30, 2015
"I also cultivated a sense of superiority and confidence in my own abilities." (Page 219 of 668 in ebook)
That is why the book gets the low star rating it does. I had a hard time reading this book...it did feel like a dialog instead of a manuscript, and he had set himself up to look like a master. It smacks with haughtiness, particularly when he writes about other authors and describes how inadequate they are. He is clearly so proud of how his son self-taught mathematics and was ahead of his American peers. But later the author admits he didn't know the math himself...why couldn't he self-teach, if it was good enough for his son to do? And the irony is that now his son hates math...pushed too hard, so self-teaching because one's parents frequently remind you how important it is to "win" compared to others. The son did not develop self-motivation. Maybe this is why the Chinese have started off so strongly academically in their youth, but then fail to achieve awards as adults...sounds like burnout.
The governmental policy change in the 1970s seems to have had a major influence on the Chinese parenting style. If Chinese families didn't have just the one child in which to invest all of their time, energy and emotions, how would their balance of time and resources be spent? My understanding would be that it would all be invested in the first born male. Huang describes how many Chinese parents will have one income so that the other parent can move with the child to pursue the child's education and parents will even attend the classes or read the full textbook in order to help their child study and gain advantages of being able to score higher on tests. Without the requirement of the child to take responsibility for directing his own learning, it doesn't surprise me that Chinese scholars perform much better as youth and then have difficulty earning top international awards and success relative to other countries as adults.
I did gain some insight to my in-laws way of thinking and understand better why they make certain statements or value certain standards, such as encouraging my kids to go to Harvard. In the end, each family will think through what is best for their family, given varying dynamics and other issues (for example poor hearth and how that impacted education for either Chinese students or American-born ones). Hard work & a clear sense of direction will be valuable regardless.
That is why the book gets the low star rating it does. I had a hard time reading this book...it did feel like a dialog instead of a manuscript, and he had set himself up to look like a master. It smacks with haughtiness, particularly when he writes about other authors and describes how inadequate they are. He is clearly so proud of how his son self-taught mathematics and was ahead of his American peers. But later the author admits he didn't know the math himself...why couldn't he self-teach, if it was good enough for his son to do? And the irony is that now his son hates math...pushed too hard, so self-teaching because one's parents frequently remind you how important it is to "win" compared to others. The son did not develop self-motivation. Maybe this is why the Chinese have started off so strongly academically in their youth, but then fail to achieve awards as adults...sounds like burnout.
The governmental policy change in the 1970s seems to have had a major influence on the Chinese parenting style. If Chinese families didn't have just the one child in which to invest all of their time, energy and emotions, how would their balance of time and resources be spent? My understanding would be that it would all be invested in the first born male. Huang describes how many Chinese parents will have one income so that the other parent can move with the child to pursue the child's education and parents will even attend the classes or read the full textbook in order to help their child study and gain advantages of being able to score higher on tests. Without the requirement of the child to take responsibility for directing his own learning, it doesn't surprise me that Chinese scholars perform much better as youth and then have difficulty earning top international awards and success relative to other countries as adults.
I did gain some insight to my in-laws way of thinking and understand better why they make certain statements or value certain standards, such as encouraging my kids to go to Harvard. In the end, each family will think through what is best for their family, given varying dynamics and other issues (for example poor hearth and how that impacted education for either Chinese students or American-born ones). Hard work & a clear sense of direction will be valuable regardless.
May 31, 2014
There’s no shortage of books on the topic of parenting. And there’s probably an equal amount challenging many of these books’ central theses. The most controversial in recent years has been Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.
In The Hybrid Tiger, Professor Quanyu Huang attempted to counter some, not all, of Chua’s aggressive parenting advice. Deeming much of Tiger Mom’s counsel as “harsh” and “out of date,” Huang contended that most Chinese-American families do not heap such overt criticism upon their children. However, he does believe that American (non-Asian) parents need to be more proactive when it comes to the academics of their offspring.
When the author brought his family from China, he was shocked to discover his son’s peers’ inadequate study habits. Worse, their parents’ indifference. The majority, he observed, did not push their children enough and, in many cases, weren’t even involved. When it came to extracurricular activities (e.g., soccer and cheerleading), though, he noticed parents were more than willing to actively support their children.
Although Huang made several keen observations that American parents should consider, his book reads like a series of academic articles meshed with personal reflections rather than a flowing narrative. The information is interesting, but its delivery lacks cohesion. It’s unfortunate. Hybrid Tiger is the type of book that could have had the positive impact that Amy Chua’s intended to have, but neither will change many parental minds.
This review was originally published in San Francisco Book Review
In The Hybrid Tiger, Professor Quanyu Huang attempted to counter some, not all, of Chua’s aggressive parenting advice. Deeming much of Tiger Mom’s counsel as “harsh” and “out of date,” Huang contended that most Chinese-American families do not heap such overt criticism upon their children. However, he does believe that American (non-Asian) parents need to be more proactive when it comes to the academics of their offspring.
When the author brought his family from China, he was shocked to discover his son’s peers’ inadequate study habits. Worse, their parents’ indifference. The majority, he observed, did not push their children enough and, in many cases, weren’t even involved. When it came to extracurricular activities (e.g., soccer and cheerleading), though, he noticed parents were more than willing to actively support their children.
Although Huang made several keen observations that American parents should consider, his book reads like a series of academic articles meshed with personal reflections rather than a flowing narrative. The information is interesting, but its delivery lacks cohesion. It’s unfortunate. Hybrid Tiger is the type of book that could have had the positive impact that Amy Chua’s intended to have, but neither will change many parental minds.
This review was originally published in San Francisco Book Review
March 9, 2014
The book describes American and Chinese education. Chinese parents work hard in supporting their son or daughter to excel in school. The author shared his experience with his son. He says the Chinese excel in standardized scores all through elementary, middle n high-school but that's where it ends. The only way to move up n have a better life is to do good on education n standardized test, it's not uncommon for students to study for extended hours. The author compares the way American n Chinese are raised and guided when making life long decisions. The book helped me understand the culture of Chinese through the life experiences of the author. It also outlined some advantages Americans have in creating independent n creative individuals. The author and his son seem to have a good relationship n I enjoyed reading how the author's perseverance of having a better life inspired his son. After all, parents are role models for their children.
July 13, 2014
From an American educator's POV, the author only partially answers the question, but does elaborate on numerous cultural differences which are responsible for the phenomenon. Some comparisons seem simplistic, and some generalizations are necessary, but perhaps in some instances the author is over-reliant upon them.
November 13, 2014
This book is worth looking at if nothing else. I do not agree with the author completely, however I do agree that the parents of any child need to take an active role in the child's education. It is also important that the child needs to learn to acheive and 'win' as well as loss and work as a team.
This book directs people to always think of college, however we need and value plumbers also.
This book directs people to always think of college, however we need and value plumbers also.
September 14, 2016
Not too bad if you understand the author's background. He is not the parent of the current teenagers. He experienced very dramatic childhood during the most special time in China. His thought and opinion have very deep mark of his generation. Still, he does point out some valuable points on education.
February 16, 2014
Just meh. And it doesn't even have the outlandish Tiger mom statements that made Amy Chua's book so entertaining. Although I agree with him in that there is no secret sauce to success -- just a willingness to work hard.
September 12, 2014
really good book I didn't know much about Chinese education and the different kind of entries exam that they do over there, really strict in my opinion but as the book says is a different culture I will try to apply some of his advise to my children.
February 7, 2016
Nothing really new here. As a white educator, it was helpful to read about the Asian-american culture, it's history and values around raising and educating children and how it differs from traditional middle class white american values.
July 24, 2014
Interesting perspectives, comparisons and observations between Asian and American educational philosophies.
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