Are kids today spoiled, or is it a myth?

I don’t know about spoiled.

I would say that their attention spans have decreased, or at least they lose patience quickly with lack of stimulation.

I don’t think they’re any more spoiled than we were at their age. With advanced age almost always comes a great forgetfulness about our own frequent dives into selfishness, entitlement and anger when we didn’t get our way. And as people age, they tend to exaggerate how hard they once had things, relative to more recent generations:

“When I was young, we had to hike miles in the snow to get to school, and it snowed year round, and our boots were soaked through and we all got frostbite and nearly died every single day.”

“You had feet?”

Baudelaire said something to the effect that genius (for adults) is youth repossessed, reembodied. I think too many of us old folks, when we talk about the millennials, have just forgotten our inner genius.

That said, I do think this thing we’re doing now, being on the Internet, using our smartphones, “tweeting” and the like (which I don’t do), has robbed all of us of an already dwindling attention span. Millennials have grown up in this virtual state of ADD. I know it’s hurt my ability to concentrate on one thing for long periods of time. It was possible for me in the past to actually sit down and read a 19th century building of a book. I could get through a Tolstoy, a Dostoevsky, A Dickens. Not so much today. Just finished Mann’s The Magic Mountain, which is more than 700 pages, that was a bit of a chore for me. I had to do other things and come back to it all too much, which wouldn’t have been the case when I was younger.

Technology, IMO, is messing with our heads — all of us.

zn wrote:

Well one thing fits this and re-directs the question.

People do know, right, that overseas, american children are seen as profoundly undisciplined and badly socialized. It’s a constant theme.

And a lot of that comes from the fact that there’s no such thing as “raising children,” there is always only “DIFFERENT cultural child-rearing PRACTICES.”

Here;s just one of thousands of possible reads on this:

Here’s another article out of the many out there. I recommend reading both if people are interested

….

http://www.npr.org/2012/02/12/146769135/move-over-tiger-mother-french-parents-may-be-better-too

What French Parents Do That Americans Don’t

Before moving to Paris, American Pamela Druckerman knew that the French had a reputation for cultural refinement: a knowledge of wine, a sophisticated sense of style and a preoccupation with haute cuisine.

But while living in the French capital and going through the everyday struggles of raising children her English husband, she uncovered another surprising aspect of French life. Wherever she looked in Paris, the locals seemed to be employing a certain je ne sais quoi that was making their kids behave better than typical American children.

Druckerman decided to write a book about her experience, called Bringing up Bebe: One American Mother Discovers the Wisdom of French Parenting. She tells Weekend Edition’s Rachel Martin that the idea for the book came to her in a sort of “epiphany” when she was eating out with her husband and her daughter, who was 18 months old at the time.

“[My daughter] was refusing to eat anything but sort of pasta and white bread. And I suddenly looked up and I realized that the French families all around us were having a very different experience — that their kids were sitting in their high-chairs, enjoying their meals, eating their vegetables and fish and all kinds of other things and talking to their parents. … They weren’t being seen but not heard. They were enjoying themselves,” Druckerman says.

Druckerman began paying close attention to how French methods with children differed from American ones. One thing she found was that the French had an essentially different attitude about the malleability of their children’s preferences.

“We [Americans] assume … a little more that kids have inherent likes and dislikes, whereas the French view on food is the parent must educate their child and that appreciation for different food is something you cultivate over time,” Druckerman says.

One key to this cultivation of tastes appears to be exposure. Druckerman points out that in France, “there is no category of food called kids’ food. Kids and adults, from the start, eat the same thing.”

As an example of how children are exposed to a variety of foods at an early age, Druckerman recounts her visit to a lunch at a public daycare with her daughter and other two-year-olds.

“There’s a four-course menu every day. It starts with a vegetable dish and then there’s a main course. There’s a different cheese every day. So, I discovered to my shock that my daughter eats blue cheese. There are two things in that. One is that, I think, starting with vegetables is a really good idea, and we do that now. And the other trick that French parents do is they say to their kids, ‘You don’t have to eat everything, you just have to taste it,'” Druckerman says.

The French method of culinary education for their children also illustrates a larger pattern within French parenting, which is the cultivation of patience. Druckerman says most French children, unlike many of their American counterparts, did not need to be entertained constantly by their parents.

“I notice this when I go to the park in France, because I would usually arrive with a big bag of stuff to entertain my daughter the entire day, whereas the French mom on the blanket next to me would have just one ball, and she would talk to her friend. And the child would be happy,” Druckerman says. “French children seem to be able to play by themselves in a way.”

Some might see this scenario as evidence that the French are less thrilled with having children and are more selfish as parents than their American counterparts who are constantly playing with their children. But Druckerman does not think this is the case.

“The French view is really one of balance, I think. … What French women would tell me over and over is, it’s very important that no part of your life — not being a mom, not being a worker, not being a wife — overwhelms the other part,” Druckerman says.

The more laissez-faire French style of parenting may be hard to swallow for some Americans who are used to hovering over their children, but Druckerman thinks it’s worth it in the long run. “As an American, you know, at first I was really surprised by this kind of approach to parenting. But after a while, I realized, you know what, my daughter is proud of her independence,” Druckerman says.

Although no one likes to be told how to parent, Druckerman says the response from readers so far has been “overwhelmingly positive.” Part of the reason for this may be that Druckerman avoided being overly preachy by writing the book as a personal narrative.

“I’m criticizing myself. I’m, I think, maybe the more extreme example of an American parent,” Druckerman says. “So, I guess the book is really a memoir. It’s my own story of how I partially became converted to some French ways of doing things but also held on to the things that I like about America.”

http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10001424052748704111504576059713528698754

Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior

By AMY CHUA

Updated Jan. 8, 2011 12:01 a.m. ET

A lot of people wonder how Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids. They wonder what these parents do to produce so many math whizzes and music prodigies, what it’s like inside the family, and whether they could do it too. Well, I can tell them, because I’ve done it. Here are some things my daughters, Sophia and Louisa, were never allowed to do:

• attend a sleepover

• have a playdate

• be in a school play

• complain about not being in a school play

• watch TV or play computer games

• choose their own extracurricular activities

• get any grade less than an A

• not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama

• play any instrument other than the piano or violin

• not play the piano or violin.

I’m using the term “Chinese mother” loosely. I know some Korean, Indian, Jamaican, Irish and Ghanaian parents who qualify too. Conversely, I know some mothers of Chinese heritage, almost always born in the West, who are not Chinese mothers, by choice or otherwise. I’m also using the term “Western parents” loosely. Western parents come in all varieties.

All the same, even when Western parents think they’re being strict, they usually don’t come close to being Chinese mothers. For example, my Western friends who consider themselves strict make their children practice their instruments 30 minutes every day. An hour at most. For a Chinese mother, the first hour is the easy part. It’s hours two and three that get tough.

When it comes to parenting, the Chinese seem to produce children who display academic excellence, musical mastery and professional success – or so the stereotype goes. WSJ’s Christina Tsuei speaks to two moms raised by Chinese immigrants who share what it was like growing up and how they hope to raise their children.

Despite our squeamishness about cultural stereotypes, there are tons of studies out there showing marked and quantifiable differences between Chinese and Westerners when it comes to parenting. In one study of 50 Western American mothers and 48 Chinese immigrant mothers, almost 70% of the Western mothers said either that “stressing academic success is not good for children” or that “parents need to foster the idea that learning is fun.” By contrast, roughly 0% of the Chinese mothers felt the same way. Instead, the vast majority of the Chinese mothers said that they believe their children can be “the best” students, that “academic achievement reflects successful parenting,” and that if children did not excel at school then there was “a problem” and parents “were not doing their job.” Other studies indicate that compared to Western parents, Chinese parents spend approximately 10 times as long every day drilling academic activities with their children. By contrast, Western kids are more likely to participate in sports teams.

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you’re good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up. But if done properly, the Chinese strategy produces a virtuous circle. Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote repetition is underrated in America. Once a child starts to excel at something—whether it’s math, piano, pitching or ballet—he or she gets praise, admiration and satisfaction. This builds confidence and makes the once not-fun activity fun. This in turn makes it easier for the parent to get the child to work even more.

Chinese parents can get away with things that Western parents can’t. Once when I was young—maybe more than once—when I was extremely disrespectful to my mother, my father angrily called me “garbage” in our native Hokkien dialect. It worked really well. I felt terrible and deeply ashamed of what I had done. But it didn’t damage my self-esteem or anything like that. I knew exactly how highly he thought of me. I didn’t actually think I was worthless or feel like a piece of garbage.

As an adult, I once did the same thing to Sophia, calling her garbage in English when she acted extremely disrespectfully toward me. When I mentioned that I had done this at a dinner party, I was immediately ostracized. One guest named Marcy got so upset she broke down in tears and had to leave early. My friend Susan, the host, tried to rehabilitate me with the remaining guests.

The fact is that Chinese parents can do things that would seem unimaginable—even legally actionable—to Westerners. Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, “Hey fatty—lose some weight.” By contrast, Western parents have to tiptoe around the issue, talking in terms of “health” and never ever mentioning the f-word, and their kids still end up in therapy for eating disorders and negative self-image. (I also once heard a Western father toast his adult daughter by calling her “beautiful and incredibly competent.” She later told me that made her feel like garbage.)

Chinese parents can order their kids to get straight As. Western parents can only ask their kids to try their best. Chinese parents can say, “You’re lazy. All your classmates are getting ahead of you.” By contrast, Western parents have to struggle with their own conflicted feelings about achievement, and try to persuade themselves that they’re not disappointed about how their kids turned out.

I’ve thought long and hard about how Chinese parents can get away with what they do. I think there are three big differences between the Chinese and Western parental mind-sets.

First, I’ve noticed that Western parents are extremely anxious about their children’s self-esteem. They worry about how their children will feel if they fail at something, and they constantly try to reassure their children about how good they are notwithstanding a mediocre performance on a test or at a recital. In other words, Western parents are concerned about their children’s psyches. Chinese parents aren’t. They assume strength, not fragility, and as a result they behave very differently.

For example, if a child comes home with an A-minus on a test, a Western parent will most likely praise the child. The Chinese mother will gasp in horror and ask what went wrong. If the child comes home with a B on the test, some Western parents will still praise the child. Other Western parents will sit their child down and express disapproval, but they will be careful not to make their child feel inadequate or insecure, and they will not call their child “stupid,” “worthless” or “a disgrace.” Privately, the Western parents may worry that their child does not test well or have aptitude in the subject or that there is something wrong with the curriculum and possibly the whole school. If the child’s grades do not improve, they may eventually schedule a meeting with the school principal to challenge the way the subject is being taught or to call into question the teacher’s credentials.

If a Chinese child gets a B—which would never happen—there would first be a screaming, hair-tearing explosion. The devastated Chinese mother would then get dozens, maybe hundreds of practice tests and work through them with her child for as long as it takes to get the grade up to an A.

Chinese parents demand perfect grades because they believe that their child can get them. If their child doesn’t get them, the Chinese parent assumes it’s because the child didn’t work hard enough. That’s why the solution to substandard performance is always to excoriate, punish and shame the child. The Chinese parent believes that their child will be strong enough to take the shaming and to improve from it. (And when Chinese kids do excel, there is plenty of ego-inflating parental praise lavished in the privacy of the home.)

Second, Chinese parents believe that their kids owe them everything. The reason for this is a little unclear, but it’s probably a combination of Confucian filial piety and the fact that the parents have sacrificed and done so much for their children. (And it’s true that Chinese mothers get in the trenches, putting in long grueling hours personally tutoring, training, interrogating and spying on their kids.) Anyway, the understanding is that Chinese children must spend their lives repaying their parents by obeying them and making them proud.

By contrast, I don’t think most Westerners have the same view of children being permanently indebted to their parents. My husband, Jed, actually has the opposite view. “Children don’t choose their parents,” he once said to me. “They don’t even choose to be born. It’s parents who foist life on their kids, so it’s the parents’ responsibility to provide for them. Kids don’t owe their parents anything. Their duty will be to their own kids.” This strikes me as a terrible deal for the Western parent.

Third, Chinese parents believe that they know what is best for their children and therefore override all of their children’s own desires and preferences. That’s why Chinese daughters can’t have boyfriends in high school and why Chinese kids can’t go to sleepaway camp. It’s also why no Chinese kid would ever dare say to their mother, “I got a part in the school play! I’m Villager Number Six. I’ll have to stay after school for rehearsal every day from 3:00 to 7:00, and I’ll also need a ride on weekends.” God help any Chinese kid who tried that one.

Don’t get me wrong: It’s not that Chinese parents don’t care about their children. Just the opposite. They would give up anything for their children. It’s just an entirely different parenting model.

Here’s a story in favor of coercion, Chinese-style. Lulu was about 7, still playing two instruments, and working on a piano piece called “The Little White Donkey” by the French composer Jacques Ibert. The piece is really cute—you can just imagine a little donkey ambling along a country road with its master—but it’s also incredibly difficult for young players because the two hands have to keep schizophrenically different rhythms.

Lulu couldn’t do it. We worked on it nonstop for a week, drilling each of her hands separately, over and over. But whenever we tried putting the hands together, one always morphed into the other, and everything fell apart. Finally, the day before her lesson, Lulu announced in exasperation that she was giving up and stomped off.

“Get back to the piano now,” I ordered.

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh yes, I can.”

Back at the piano, Lulu made me pay. She punched, thrashed and kicked. She grabbed the music score and tore it to shreds. I taped the score back together and encased it in a plastic shield so that it could never be destroyed again. Then I hauled Lulu’s dollhouse to the car and told her I’d donate it to the Salvation Army piece by piece if she didn’t have “The Little White Donkey” perfect by the next day. When Lulu said, “I thought you were going to the Salvation Army, why are you still here?” I threatened her with no lunch, no dinner, no Christmas or Hanukkah presents, no birthday parties for two, three, four years. When she still kept playing it wrong, I told her she was purposely working herself into a frenzy because she was secretly afraid she couldn’t do it. I told her to stop being lazy, cowardly, self-indulgent and pathetic.

Jed took me aside. He told me to stop insulting Lulu—which I wasn’t even doing, I was just motivating her—and that he didn’t think threatening Lulu was helpful. Also, he said, maybe Lulu really just couldn’t do the technique—perhaps she didn’t have the coordination yet—had I considered that possibility?

“You just don’t believe in her,” I accused.

“That’s ridiculous,” Jed said scornfully. “Of course I do.”

“Sophia could play the piece when she was this age.”

“But Lulu and Sophia are different people,” Jed pointed out.

“Oh no, not this,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Everyone is special in their special own way,” I mimicked sarcastically. “Even losers are special in their own special way. Well don’t worry, you don’t have to lift a finger. I’m willing to put in as long as it takes, and I’m happy to be the one hated. And you can be the one they adore because you make them pancakes and take them to Yankees games.”

I rolled up my sleeves and went back to Lulu. I used every weapon and tactic I could think of. We worked right through dinner into the night, and I wouldn’t let Lulu get up, not for water, not even to go to the bathroom. The house became a war zone, and I lost my voice yelling, but still there seemed to be only negative progress, and even I began to have doubts.

Then, out of the blue, Lulu did it. Her hands suddenly came together—her right and left hands each doing their own imperturbable thing—just like that.

Lulu realized it the same time I did. I held my breath. She tried it tentatively again. Then she played it more confidently and faster, and still the rhythm held. A moment later, she was beaming.

“Mommy, look—it’s easy!” After that, she wanted to play the piece over and over and wouldn’t leave the piano. That night, she came to sleep in my bed, and we snuggled and hugged, cracking each other up. When she performed “The Little White Donkey” at a recital a few weeks later, parents came up to me and said, “What a perfect piece for Lulu—it’s so spunky and so her.”

Even Jed gave me credit for that one. Western parents worry a lot about their children’s self-esteem. But as a parent, one of the worst things you can do for your child’s self-esteem is to let them give up. On the flip side, there’s nothing better for building confidence than learning you can do something you thought you couldn’t.

There are all these new books out there portraying Asian mothers as scheming, callous, overdriven people indifferent to their kids’ true interests. For their part, many Chinese secretly believe that they care more about their children and are willing to sacrifice much more for them than Westerners, who seem perfectly content to let their children turn out badly. I think it’s a misunderstanding on both sides. All decent parents want to do what’s best for their children. The Chinese just have a totally different idea of how to do that.

Western parents try to respect their children’s individuality, encouraging them to pursue their true passions, supporting their choices, and providing positive reinforcement and a nurturing environment. By contrast, the Chinese believe that the best way to protect their children is by preparing them for the future, letting them see what they’re capable of, and arming them with skills, work habits and inner confidence that no one can ever take away.

—Amy Chua is a professor at Yale Law School and author of “Day of Empire” and “World on Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy Breeds Ethnic Hatred and Global Instability.” This essay is excerpted from “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” by Amy Chua, to be published Tuesday by the Penguin Press, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Copyright © 2011 by Amy Chua.

Yes, I made students write an essay on THIS, too.

wv wrote:

Damn. Big differences there, zooey. I know not every Chinese mom
takes that approach, and who knows what the percentages really are,
but thats quite a difference from a lot of WV moms.

I guess itz an aspect of this modern-world that we get to learn about
all kinds of approaches. As opposed to just being immersed in one.
And once you’ve seen how many approaches there are….how does one
choose what parental approach to use?

I mean, other than forcing the child to be a Rams fan.
That one is a given, i would think.

w
v

Yeah, it’s an interesting perspective, all right. It is an op-ed based on her book, Battle Hymn of a Tiger Mom, or something like that. It caused quite a stir when it was published, and my students have several fits over it, as you can imagine.