Why I Tell My Child A+ Is The Only Acceptable Grade
When he was seven years old, I overheard my kid telling his friends, "I do homework in the summer because when I grow up, my mom wants me to be able to compete in a global economy."
I'm that mom, the one who questions her kid about his one A, when all the rest of his grades are A-pluses.
I grew up in one of the worst housing projects in New York City. It was not a happy childhood, but it did give me a strong survival instinct. I've been able to persevere, despite many of life's misfortunes, and I'm grateful my son isn't growing up feeling unsafe every time he leaves the house. The flip side to that is I worry that he will not be equipped to handle adversity.
How can I prepare him to press on, despite tragedy and hardship?
The truth is, I can't. There's no way to prepare a child for this. But the one thing I can do is to teach him to excel at everything he does, particularly school. Education is the means not only to survival, but to societal advancement. I want him to strive to be the best.
Not just his best. The best.
I've taught my son that school is his job, and to take pride in that job. He's bright enough to earn the highest grades. Why settle for less?
So, I have my son do homework in the summer. My friends think I'm being excessive, but I know there's a documented loss of academic skills in children over the summer. Why would I want such an easily preventable thing to happen? I'm not unreasonable. I ask one hour a day of him, leaving him plenty of time to enjoy summer activities.
I proudly refer to myself as a Tiger Mom. I push my son to exceed his own expectations. But I do not engage in negative parenting strategies. I don't ridicule him when he fails. I don't force him to practice his instrument relentlessly for hours, without bathroom or food breaks. But I did insist he learn an instrument, when in fact, he strongly resisted it.
Because I was raised in poverty, I want my child to have a better life than the one I currently provide for him. However, achieving a higher standard of living than the generation before us is not as easy as it once was. Because of that, I'm looking to hone my son's competitive edge. Natural talent and innate intelligence will only take you so far. After that, sharp focus and a fierce work ethic are paramount.
The world is a hard place and equality of opportunity is a myth, in my opinion. What's real is working hard to distinguish yourself from the pack, so you can establish a financially comfortable life. Financial comfort gives you the freedom to do things.
My own mother was like me now, except that I celebrate my son's successes even more. It's no accident that I attended a prestigious university on a full scholarship.
I rarely discuss my approach with other parents. The majority of them disagree vehemently with my perspective, including one of my best friends, who loves to cite me studies that indicate the uselessness of homework.
None of these people grew up like I did, though. None of them were afraid to outgrow their shoes knowing there was no money for new ones. My son will never know that feeling.
Although I was groomed for success as an academic superstar, my childhood lacked security, encouragement, and attention. My worldview was built upon a damaged foundation. I feel I have squandered many opportunities and I wonder if my life would have played out differently. In many ways, my son is a "do-over," a chance to watch a child flourish when they are pushed (with love) to greatness.
I have to be careful not to project too much of myself onto my son. For example, I'm a proud spelling bee champion, and last year, I watched my son go out on the third round. He was unprepared for the nerve wracking experience of being onstage in front of hundreds of people. This year, I was determined that he go back and surpass last year's performance.
He refused.
I've relented–for now. It's one thing if he has no interest in the unique subculture of the "bee." If this is about him not wanting to face his fears on the podium, then I will urge him to go back and revisit this experience with confidence.
The bottom line: Most parents assume fragility in our children, instead of strength. My kid is loaded up like a pack mule for school; he's got his backpack, laptop, lunch bag and saxophone. Initially, he wanted me to walk him to the bus stop and carry his sax, because that's what the other moms do.
I refused. Instead, I helped him figure out the best way to juggle everything. He feels empowered.
Say what you want, but I am raising a child to believe in himself, and to acquire confidence through his accomplishments. I will not accept mediocrity from a child who is capable of greatness. I am not rejecting his innate worth, but rather, my expectation of greatness is my ultimate belief in his worth.
