My Family and Other Globalizers | Why it’s hard to take the tiger out of an Asian mom

And since mothers and fathers around the world like nothing better than to boast about their offspring’s achievements, there’s a lot of humble bragging going on amongst my friends. Here’s a typical Indian mom’s disguised flex:

“I don’t know what to do with Rahul. He came second in class in Maths in the exams, just as he’s gone into the ninth. I’ve told him that his marks in Primary don’t matter. It's fine he always used to come first, but it’s time to get serious now only. And already it's second (place). Soon it will be third and fourth and who knows what?! But all he wants to do is play chess. He won the district championship last month. Wants to be Vishwanathan Anand. Great. Good. But what about his Maths? What university will he get into at this rate?”

And here’s what a Spanish mom is likely to show off about:

“I don’t know what to do with Alejandro. He’s out almost every night. And mostly it’s with girls. I thought he was with that nice Carolina, but it seems that’s old news now. I think he might be dating Celia. You know her, right? The daughter of xxx (famous footballer at Real Madrid). That boy is just too popular for his own good. Anyway, the one thing I’m thankful for is that he seems to be getting enough sleep, so he’s always on time for football practice. Es fantastico, no? It’s so important for children to play sports.”

Ever since my older boy turned 13, the parents of his school friends in Madrid have tended to query me about two things: Does he go out (a euphemism for socialize with friends outside of parental supervision)? And does he play a sport? If I can answer in the affirmative to these two questions, then the assumption is that all is right in my child’s world.

I am yet to have anyone ask me about his marks- probably because the school doesn’t give him any. Until high school, children here get colour-coded end of the year reports which emphasize “attitude to learning,” and “progress,” as much as, “achievement.” The “results” are a shade of green, blue or red, and I can never for the life of me remember what any of the colours really mean. There is no sense of knowing how well the children are doing compared to others in the class, for the pedagogical philosophy is only to compare their progress to their own past best.

Am I being fang and clawish to be befuddled by this? To wonder which university will be impressed that regardless of his average showing, my son did better than the year before and always keeps his desk neat?

But herein lies the reason for the chalk and cheese attitude between progenitors in Asia and their European counterparts. In Spain, the majority of children will go to a decent enough college. The university system here tends to accept most applicants. The education system as a whole is geared towards a democratic middle rather than an upper-crust elite. And so, young people can spend their adolescence playing football and learning enough, in the security of the knowledge that their future, while perhaps not spectacular, will be just fine.

They don’t need to spend hours in after-school tuition, depleted and anxious, because they do not live in an economy of scarcity. In countries like India and China, the pressure is enormous. For many children, their marks in one exam determines their whole future. It’s a one-shot culture.

For my boys, it’s a more complex scenario, given that they are unlikely to stay in Spain for university. Attempting to get into elite colleges in the Anglo-Saxon world, preferably with financial aid, is a different tapa of jamon to kicking a football all the way into one of Madrid’s unexceptional, but good enough, universities.

And so, every once in a while, I try and slash a tiger mom claw at them, to awake them to the reality that their competition will be global not local. But mostly this whole process has been a re-education for me, as I’m learning to unlearn the idea that stress is essential to studying and that every exam is a dog fight. Unlike me, my children are privileged to be in a world where the pie is substantial enough even at a per capita level. And I am working on accepting that as an unqualified good thing. So far, I am only semi-convinced. What do you think, dear reader?