Tiger Mom or Bear Mom

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 19, 2011

It has been freezing cold in this neck of the woods; schools closed for several days. I often wonder what parents of young kids do when the schools close and how they fare with alternative arrangements. Do they stay home all day, do they farm the kids out, do they insist they study, or is this quickly announced unstructured time an opportunity for kids to learn self-supervision? I have no data and no indication what transpires, only that I sense a large communal sigh of relief when the schools open again.

I ventured past our neighborhood elementary on the day school resumed after closing for ice. Lines of buses were delivering urchins to the back doors, while lines of parents in personal vehicles were delivering other urchins to the front doors. It was fascinating to watch the 700+ kids arrive, quickly swallowed by the building and sorted into various rectangular shaped rooms with at least one fully grown, college-educated, professionally certified adult awaiting their arrival. It did not matter whether the child arrived by bus, car, bike or foot. They were all successfully herded into their predetermined 800 square feet. They hung coats and gloves, dropped backpacks, and scrambled to identical furniture aligned mostly in rows. When it comes to managing large groups of individual kids, (some thugs, some thuglettes, some urchins, some hungry, some sleepy, some bright and shiny with designer jeans, and all with various shades of brown to beige skin pigment), schools do a great job!

There has been a lot of media talk recently regarding "Tiger Moms," those Chinese mothers who have very high expectations for their children. I have not read the book, but it is clear from interviews I have heard with the author that the message from Tiger Moms to their cubs is: work hard, failure is not an option, punishment follows poor performance, and humiliation follows failure. Interesting. Such children in groups of 20 or more would be a delight to teach. Isn't that scary?

What shall we call the antithesis of the Tiger Mom? Unprintable labels come to mind for the group of moms and dads who have previously earned the title "helicopter parents" for their propensity to hover over their offspring in highly protective fashion. To keep my metaphor appropriate, I shall refer to the helicopter moms as Bear Moms. I have a mental image of the ferocious she-bear responding to an attack on her cubs, and that image is not far removed from the behavior of some of our parents. That is, those parents whose goal in life is to protect their children from the pain inflicted by schools.

Bear Moms cannot imagine that their child is lazy, not so bright or disciplined, discontent to follow the herd, and lacking in the gene that requires all kids at some point to stand in line and not touch their neighbor. If the child of a Bear Mom receives a poor grade, it is the school's fault. If the same child misbehaves, it is the school's fault. If the same child does not get the lead in the play, is not the starting quarterback, or is not allowed to clean the erasers, it is the school's fault. (We really do not clean erasers much anymore as most rooms have gone with white boards and markers, computer projectors and document cameras and the like. Perhaps low performance in school can be attributed to the absence of chalk dust and its mentally stimulating properties.)

Tiger Moms send their kids to school on a bus, metaphorically. They understand buses. Buses pick up large numbers of kids at predetermined locations. If you are not there on time, you don't get to ride. Buses transport this large group, two or three to a seat, to a destination where they all arrive at the same time. Picked up as a group, delivered as a group. Tiger Moms understand that it is important for their children to be at the bus stop first, ready to go, at the front of the line, grabbing the seat immediately behind the driver. Tiger Moms will not let their children be late and will not tolerate their children sitting in the back of the bus where all kinds of unsanctioned curriculum might be taught. When the bus arrives, Tiger Moms expect their kids to be first off the bus and first in the classroom to sit on the front row ready to learn, and ready to demonstrate they successfully completed all assignments and mastered all content.

Bear Moms want a taxi. They want someone to pick up their kids whenever the kid is ready, drive the precious child to his or her destination in isolation and comfort, and no requirements to share or get along. Bear Moms want the school to wait for the child to arrive. Taxis are wonderful. They pick up individual riders wherever they are, take them wherever they have to go, and it is one-on-one. Side trips are OK, late arrivals are OK. The journey is customized.

Schools barely can afford buses. They cannot afford taxis. Tiger Moms get it, Bear Moms don't. We sort kids by age. Six year-olds should arrive at school by bus and know letters, numbers, colors and a host of sight words. Tiger Moms send their kids ready for the six year old group. Bear Moms want the school to wait until their child arrives by taxi, and are not as concerned whether the child knows any of the stuff the entire bus, or grade, is supposed to know. If the child doesn't know it, it is the school's fault. After all, this precious child just arrived via taxi. At the end of first grade, the bus is pulling out for second grade. Some kids need a taxi, but we have a hard time providing such a taxi. A taxi that somehow picks up everything needed and missed in first grade, and gets the child to second grade ready to go.

(As an aside, I fully understand the need to provide some kids a metaphorical taxi. Special needs kids, kids with disabilities, cannot be served well on a general population bus.)

Every Bear Mom has an excuse. Their children need self-esteem injections, their children are tired, special, needy, sensitive, etc. Schools are expected to attend to those issues in ways that do not inflict challenges. If a bear cub does not want to do the work, does not want to participate, does not want to stand in line, does not want to be held accountable, then schools should protect the bear cub in ways just like the parents. Bear Moms want to be with their cubs at lunch, in the classroom, on the playground, and every school function. This does not disappear as the cub grows. You will find Bear Moms in the bleachers at secondary events yelling at the coach to put their kid in the game because their feelings will get hurt if they do not get to play. Bear Moms want their cubs to have it easy.

Tiger Moms make no excuses, expect no special treatment. They expect their kids to perform, behave and get along. Tiger Moms do not expect the school to do more than teach and teach well, challenging their child to perform at ever higher levels. Tiger Moms will want their children in the GT program, the AP program, and all the most challenging curriculum schools can offer.

Drop outs are bear cubs. School is just too hard, too boring, to un-customized. Valedictorians are tiger cubs. They have mastered all that we have to throw at them. Universities only serve tiger cubs are angry at the public schools for somehow not making every child a e tiger cubstiger. Bear cubs get flunked out or kicked out.

Every school attempts to teach both sets of kids. Every school offers bus transportation and seeks to provide taxis when needed by the kid. Sadly, schools cannot provide taxis for all. And, sadly, not every parent is a Tiger Mom. So, get on the bus, and remember that schools respond better to purrrrr than grrrrrrr.