The Anti-Tiger Mother’s Battle Hymn

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The other day, I was at my desk when the nurse from my daughter’s school called to say she was feeling unwell. “You need to come pick her up,” she insisted. I’ve dealt with these calls before, but this was the first time the “sick kid” was old enough to vote.

“Can’t do it,” I replied. “I’m on a tight deadline. Just tell her to grab a taxi.” Our home is only a six-minute cab ride from the school, while it takes me over an hour to trek there by subway.

“Sorry,” the nurse said. “School policy.”

“Seriously? She’s 18!” I exclaimed. My daughter has been commuting on her own since she was 10. She’s old enough to enlist in the military, for crying out loud! Last summer, she looked after her younger brother for days while I was away on a business trip, and she navigates the subway system like a pro, even late at night. I just couldn’t fathom why I needed to rush over to pick up my almost-adult child, and honestly, I had plenty of reasons against it.

I argued. Oh, how I argued. They even brought the Principal in to settle things. I mean, isn’t the Principal supposed to be my ally? But that day, she stood firm on outdated policies while my daughter suffered.

Thanks to subway delays from some vague “incident,” I ended up shelling out nearly $46 for a cab ride from Manhattan to the Bronx. As I watched the fare climb, it hit me: I’m done.

This country, its parents, and our education system are completely off-base when it comes to raising and nurturing our kids. But let me try to make a small dent in the issue.

How can a school that insists on my 18-year-old’s well-being by demanding that I come pick her up also pile on eight hours of homework daily? If she gets four hours of sleep each night, she’s lucky. I’m not exaggerating when I say I see my daughter for maybe 20 minutes a day, during the family dinners I insist on cooking—not out of some martyr complex, but simply to spend time with my children. Meanwhile, her school—one of the so-called best public high schools in the nation—has actually stressed her and her friends to the point of illness.

When she was accepted to that school and another one focused on the arts, I tried to persuade her to go with the latter. “Imagine doing art for two hours every morning before class!” I said.

Her response broke my heart: “But the academics aren’t as strong, and I won’t get into a good college.”

“I don’t care where you go,” I told my 14-year-old. “I’d prefer you to have a less stressful adolescence. Plus, I bet that’s not even true. The teachers I met were fantastic. Less homework doesn’t mean worse academics; it just means a more enlightened school.” But she had already bought into the societal pressures.

Years ago, when a book about the “Tiger Mother” made waves, it got everyone riled up. Some were horrified by the lengths a parent would go to for her child’s success, while others believed we needed to toughen up our American kids. My daughter’s school is filled with children of immigrants who make up 62% of the student body. Their parents have sacrificed so much, investing in expensive tutors to help their kids excel in standardized tests for these demanding schools. They proudly display school merchandise, but at what cost?

Critics of the Tiger Mother pointed out that her daughters got into Harvard and Yale, as if that validated her methods. But I attended Harvard when it was much easier to get in, and let me tell you, it was filled with stressed-out overachievers. I’ve held the hair of many classmates as they threw up from stress and alcohol, not to mention the rampant eating disorders.

I realized so many of us were groomed for this prestigious school that, once there, we struggled to find our identities beyond what our parents wanted for us. My family hoped I’d go to law school, but I ended up in Afghanistan after graduation, a path they eventually had to accept.

Having an Ivy League degree can actually be a double-edged sword later on. Sure, it might help snag a banking job, but in many fields, it can brand you as overqualified or a snob. After one of my articles went viral, I was accused of “overusing” the word Harvard (I only mentioned it once!) and being out of touch with reality. To set the record straight, I did want a job at The Container Store, and I’m well aware of the downsides of my degree. While I loved my time at Harvard, I know I could have thrived at other schools too.

I promised myself that if I had kids, I would give them the freedom to carve their own paths, not just to college but in life. It’s a different mindset than Tiger Mothering. I don’t have a fancy name for it or strict rules, just a personal philosophy grounded in common sense.

My teens have never had a curfew. They just have to let me know where they are around midnight. Wine was never taboo; they could enjoy a sip at family dinners on weekends starting in their early teens. When my daughter wanted to bring her boyfriend on vacation, I didn’t force them to sneak around.

When my son lost interest in soccer, I let him quit and focus on what he loved: acting and music. If he didn’t practice guitar, it wasn’t me nagging him; it was his own internal motivation when he faced his teacher unprepared. Today, he plays guitar like a pro.

When my daughter experienced debilitating stage fright after a talent show, I let her stop music lessons. “Why study an instrument if I can’t perform?” she rightly asked.

After her father and I separated, I started taking guitar lessons to cope, and she wanted to join me. “I’m better than you,” she joked, but we gave it a go anyway. Three months later, she was way ahead of me.

Last week, her band played at Webster Hall, and she’s now anxiously awaiting college acceptance letters. I told her, “I don’t care where you go. You’ll find your place, or you can work for a year and apply again. You’ll learn and meet great people wherever you end up.” I know this because I watched a girl who once had crippling stage fright sing her heart out.

As she prepares to leave for college, I’ll still have my youngest to raise. He’s just 8. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, by the time he turns 18 and falls ill at school, we as a society have progressed enough to let our kids find their own way home?

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In summary, the journey of parenting is filled with challenges and societal pressures, but advocating for our children’s autonomy and well-being is crucial. Let’s shift the narrative from rigid expectations to nurturing their unique paths.