Tiger Mom in China - Assignment Example

FTW- For The Win. I hate that urban acronym. It’s always about that. FTW. You can’t be second in anything, or worse, the third. Excel in almost everything! Or face the wrath of your Tiger mom!

At first, I thought I played the piano only for my Mom. But I actually loved it. I loved how my fingers created music. I love my piano. I love my music. I love music.

I excelled in playing the piano for some time, but soon enough, my peers surpassed me. Mom wasn’t too pleased. I tried my best, but I gave up. I wanted to do something else.

I still play the piano, but only when I feel like it. Only when my soul wants me to. Mom didn’t mind because I was doing great in school. Her priority, I mean, our priority, is academic success.

Now, let’s talk about sports. My mom was not into sports so much. But she let me swim. I swam and I was free, but not as free as I wanted to be.

I wanted sleepovers and more time with my friends. Not that we talked about these things in China. My friends and I only imagined our days of freedom together, falling in love with strangers, and making mistakes.

When my family and I went to the U.S., I was 17 years old. I’m good at English, but Mom wasn’t satisfied. Two years before we left China, we had laborious grammar, phonics, and phonological awareness drills.

I was in a boot camp in my own house. Nope, it wasn’t home at all. Every day was a battle of endurance. Mom wanted me to at least write like a native of the American language.

One day, frustrated and tired, I threw away my English test papers and pen at her. My pen accidentally hit her cheek, nearly hitting her eye.

I was shocked. I was so afraid, but I didn’t say sorry at all. I stood up and looked directly at her, my fists closed and shaking.

She looked surprised and horrified. Her perfect daughter was acting out. Such behavior was unacceptable.

She blew up. She told me that if learning didn’t matter to me, I’ll be the one to suffer for it. She took all my perfectly-scored worksheets and told, “These don’t matter to you?”

She ripped them all.

My mouth hang and my eyes were livid. Instead of being repentant, I became madder. I tried my best to shut down my tear ducts. I shall not cry.

My not crying was my ultimate weapon of rebellion.

She said so many words. She was so angry. If words were cut, I would have died from the slices and dice of her harsh words.

Still, I told her, “Are you done?”

I thought her eyes got to their biggest point already before I uttered those courageously stupid words, but they widened even more.

She yelled and told me to go to my room and that I was grounded for my whole life until she changes her mind.

I didn’t say anything. I left. In my room, I cried my eyes out. I wanted her to die at first. Then, I said that I should die. My death would make her suffer the most.

The next morning, Mom looked angry, but it was as if nothing happened. She said, “I know, those teenage hormones. I’ll let this pass.”

I remained silent.

“You will study for four hours, instead of three, for all weekdays.  You will study during weekends. Morning to evening.”

She continued, “You will never go out until your bad attitude changes. Do you think I do this for me? You think I’m psychotic for controlling your life?”

She breathed in sharply before saying, “I’m not a bitch out here to ruin your life. I’m not your cuddly best friend. I am your mother. I will always be your mother.”

I looked at her and she was no longer mad. I saw my tired mother’s face. At the table, she prepared my favorite meals.

Mom works every day to help my father. She teaches in grade school in the morning and does household chores the rest of the time. She teaches me every free moment she’s got.

            She ate in front of me. Her face had few lines, but her eyes looked exhausted. She ate quickly. Her life’s work never ends.

            I wanted to say sorry, but I couldn’t. I felt so ashamed. I don’t deserve my mom’s overwhelming sacrifices. I don’t deserve her love.

            But she loves me anyway. She loves me every day of her life.

            She loves me even when I waste her time. She loves me even when I disrespect her.

            She loves me so much that even when she wants to cry, she chooses not to because if she breaks down, she might break down for good.

            My Mom is the typical Tiger mom. She’s mellowed down a little. But she still has fangs and stripes.

            I love my Mom and I honestly hope that I can make her proud of me. I am her tigress, and when she is old and feeble, I will be her Tiger daughter, to love and protect her every day.