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Linking Texts…
“Two Kinds” by Amy Tan
Online text found @ http://olsen-classpage.wikispaces.com/file/view/TwoKindsfulltext.pdf
Online readings@ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eXPbzMY9kQ (part 1) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vw1RxERCiuU (part 2)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mm1CpPtN4Go (part 3)
Essential Questions – How has your family history affected your life? How will your life affect your family’s history? What does
your family dream for you? What do you dream for yourself? What happens when these conflict?
Common Core Standards: .RL.1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from
the text. RL.2 Determine a theme or central idea of a text and analyze in detail its development over the course of the text, including how it emerges and is
shaped and refined by specific details; provide an objective summary of the text. RL.9-10.3 Analyze how complex characters (e.g., those with multiple or
conflicting motivations) develop over the course of a text, interact with other characters, and advance the plot or develop the theme. RL.4 Determine the
meaning of words and phrases as they are used in the text; analyze the cumulative impact of specific word choices on meaning L. 4b-c Identify and correctly
use patterns of word changes that indicate different meanings; Consult general and specialized reference materials (e.g., dictionaries, glossaries, thesauruses),
both print and digital, to find the pronunciation of a word or determine or clarify its precise meaning, its part of speech, or its etymology. . SL.1 Initiate and
participate effectively in a range of collaborative discussions (one-on-one, in groups, and teacher-led) with diverse partners on grades 9–10 topics, texts, and issues, building on
others’ ideas and expressing their own clearly
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Introduction: Family pressure can be one of these biggest challenges you face as a young person. Often, people who have authority
over you, such as a parent, set very high expectations for you that seem nearly impossible to reach. Perhaps a coach has expected
you to be the team’s top scorer, or a parent expected you to earn straight A’s. In the short story “Two Kinds,” a daughter is pushed
over the edge by her mother’s demands for perfection. How have you reacted to high expectations? Did you work harder or did you
rebel? With a small group of classmates, discuss why parents in particular might have high expectations for their children, and how
children may react to these expectations. Note the answers and be prepared to share them with the class. Notice that parents from
all cultures tend to have expectations for their children.
Making the Connection: “Two Kinds” is a story that explores the relationship between mother and daughter when high expectations
have been set. Like “The Scarlet Ibis”, it also investigates concepts such as guilt and regret. After you finished reading Two Kinds,
you will explore nonfiction texts, multimedia texts, and other fictional excerpts that focus on the theme of high expectations.
Strategies for Reading: It’s important to establish a purpose for your reading. For instance, your goal for reading “Two Kinds” is to
infer a theme. The same is true for when you read the poem The Rice Bowl Blues. As you read, think about the main struggles each
character faces. This will help you to determine a theme for each.
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Setting for Story: China Town, San Francisco, California
Evaluating the text: The short story “Two Kinds” will be followed by a poem, a nonfiction text, and a movie clip, all of which are
about young people struggling to be themselves in the face of parental expectations. What the young people want is in direct
conflict with what their parents want. Each work has a specific theme about this topic, and all of the author’s will employ different
techniques to convey the theme. As you read or listen to each work, each a running journal like the one below to help you organize
the techniques being used. This will help you infer a theme for each. There are hints included in each box as to what you will want
to pay attention to as your read.
In the short story…
In the poem…
In the nonfiction text
In the movie clip
Look for…
-words and phrases describing the
-words or phrases used to
-words or phrases used to
-details about the main character’s
traits, motivations, and values
-details about how the characters
change and the lessons they learn
-the major internal and external
conflicts
-information about the setting
-story’s title
speaker’s thoughts and feelings
-stanzas and lines that present an
idea or compare images
-sound devices, such as alliteration
and repetition, that may emphasize
an idea
-the poem’s title
describe the work
-the title
-important data, quotes
(evidence)
describe the work
-first person accounts
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Vocabulary for Story
Decide whether these key words from the story have negative or positive connotations the chart below: debut, discordant, encore, fiasco,
lament, mesmerizing, prodigy, reproach
Words with positive connotation
About the Author
Words with negative connotations
Like the narrator in “Two Kinds” Amy Tan is the daughter of Chinese immigrants. She was raised in the San
Francisco Bay area, but spent most of her high years traveling through Europe following the deaths of both
her father and brother. She spent her early career years working as a business writer, but grew bored with
the content early, and turned to writing fiction. After few short stories, she wrote The Joy Luck Club, a
collection of short stories about four Chinese women friends and their daughters. The book was an instant
success and landed Tan on the Best Sellers list. Eventually, the book was made into a movie and has been
translated in to more than 20 languages.
Click below to visit Amy Tan’s webpage. This page has author interviews and a great deal information on her
works.
http://www.amytanauthor.com/
Here is a great Prezi Presentation where Amy Tan explain her purposes for writing:
http://prezi.com/8dvjjwyaoasz/amy-tan-two-kinds/
Here is another Prezi Presentation that introduces Amy Tan and the short story, “Two Kinds”
http://prezi.com/oq8uvwfwveso/amy-tan-and-two-kinds/
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Two Kinds by Amy Tan
A Close Read
My mother believed you could be anything you wanted to be in America. You could open a restaurant. You
could work for the government and get good retirement. You could buy a house with almost no money
down. You could become rich. You could become instantly famous.
"Of course, you can be a *prodigy, too," my mother told me when I was nine. "You can be best anything.
What does Auntie Lindo know? Her daughter, she is only best tricky."
America was where all my mother's hopes lay. She had come to San Francisco in 1949 after losing
everything in China: her mother and father, her home, her first husband, and two daughters, twin baby girls.
But she never looked back with regret. Things could get better in so many ways.
We didn't immediately pick the right kind of prodigy. At first my mother thought I could be a Chinese
Shirley Temple. We'd watch Shirley's old movies on TV as though they were training films. My mother
would poke my arm and say, "Ni kan.- You watch." And I would see Shirley tapping her feet, or singing a
sailor song, or pursing her lips into a very round O while saying "Oh, my goodness."
Ni kan," my mother said, as Shirley's eyes flooded with tears. "You already know how. Don't need talent
for crying!"
Soon after my mother got this idea about Shirley Temple, she took me to the beauty training school in the
Mission District and put me in the hands of a student who could barely hold the scissors without shaking.
Instead of getting big fat curls, I emerged with an uneven mass of crinkly black fuzz. My mother dragged
me off to the bathroom and tried to wet down my hair.
"You look like a Negro Chinese," she lamented, as if I had done this on purpose.
The instructor of the beauty training school had to lop off these soggy clumps to make my hair even again.
"Peter Pan is very popular these days" the instructor assured my mother. I now had bad hair the length of a
boy’s; with curly bangs that hung at a slant two inches above my eyebrows. I liked the haircut, and it made
me actually look forward to my future fame.
In fact, in the beginning I was just as excited as my mother, maybe even more so. I pictured this prodigy
part of me as many different images, and I tried each one on for size. I was a dainty ballerina girl standing
by the curtain, waiting to hear the music that would send me floating on my tiptoes. I was like the Christ
child lifted out of the straw manger, crying with holy indignity. I was Cinderella stepping from her
pumpkin carriage with sparkly cartoon music filling the air.
In all of my imaginings I was filled with a sense that I would soon become perfect: My mother and father
would adore me. I would be beyond reproach. I would never feel the need to sulk, or to clamor for
anything. But sometimes the prodigy in me became impatient. "If you don't hurry up and get me out of
here, I'm disappearing for good," it warned. “And then you'll always be nothing."
Every night after dinner my mother and I would sit at the Formica topped kitchen table. She would present
new tests, taking her examples from stories of amazing children that she read in Ripley's Believe It or Not
or Good Housekeeping, Reader's digest, or any of a dozen other magazines she kept in a pile in our
bathroom. My mother got these magazines from people whose houses she cleaned. And since she cleaned
Prodigy (noun) – a person
who is exceptionally
talented or intelligent
Theme Alert- Reread the
highlighted lines. What
does the narrator’s mother
want for her daughter?
What does this possibly
suggest about the
mother’s character?
Reproach (noun)-blame,
criticism
What is the narrator afraid
of at this early point in the
story?
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many houses each week, we had a great assortment. She would look through them all, searching for stories
about remarkable children.
Analyze Visuals: How does
the cover of this Time
Magazine contribute to the
idea that the narrator
should also be a “Whiz
Kid”? Explain your answer.
The first night she brought out a story about a three-year-old boy who knew the capitals of all the states and
even the most of the European countries. A teacher was quoted as saying that the little boy could also
pronounce the names of the foreign cities correctly. "What's the capital of Finland? My mother asked me,
looking at the story.
All I knew was the capital of California, because Sacramento was the name of the street we lived on in
Chinatown. "Nairobi!" I guessed, saying the most foreign word I could think of. She checked to see if that
might be one way to pronounce Helsinki before showing me the answer.
The tests got harder - multiplying numbers in my head, finding the queen of hearts in a deck of cards,
trying to stand on my head without using my hands, predicting the daily temperatures in Los Angeles, New
York, and London. One night I had to look at a page from the Bible for three minutes and then report
How well does the narrator
pass the test her mother
has given her?
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everything I could remember. "Now Jehoshaphat had riches and honor in abundance and...that's all I
remember, Ma," I said.
And after seeing, once again, my mother's disappointed face, something inside me began to die. I hated the
tests, the raised hopes and failed expectations. Before going to bed that night I looked in the mirror above
the bathroom sink, and I saw only my face staring back - and understood that it would always be this
ordinary face - I began to cry. Such a sad, ugly girl! I made high - pitched noises like a crazed animal,
trying to scratch out the face in the mirror.
Reread the highlighted
passage. What affect does
her mother’s disappoint
have on the narrator?
What change occurs in the
narrator? What causes the
narrator to rebel against
her mother? What
statements does she make
or thoughts does she have
that provide insight into
how she feels? Do these
statements provide clues
to the theme?
And then I saw what seemed to be the prodigy side of me - a face I had never seen before. I looked at my
reflection, blinking so that I could see more clearly. The girl staring back at me was angry, powerful. She
and I were the same. I had new thoughts, willful thoughts - or rather, thoughts filled with lots of won'ts. I
won't let her change me, I promised myself. I won't be what I'm not.
So now when my mother presented her tests, I performed listlessly, my head propped on one arm. I
pretended to be bored. And I was. I got so bored that I started counting the bellows of the foghorns out on
the bay while my mother drilled me in other areas. The sound was comforting and reminded me of the cow
jumping over the moon. And the next day I played a game with myself, seeing if my mother would give up
on me before eight bellows. After a while I usually counted only one bellow, maybe two at most. At last
she was beginning to give up hope.
Two or three months went by without any mention of my being a prodigy. And then one day my mother
was watching the Ed Sullivan Show on TV. The TV was old and the sound kept shorting out. Every time
my mother got halfway up from the sofa to adjust the set, the sound would come back on and Sullivan
would be talking. As soon as she sat down, Sullivan would go silent again. She got up - the TV broke into
loud piano music. She sat down - silence. Up and down, back and forth, quiet and loud. It was like a stiff,
embraceless dance between her and the TV set. Finally, she stood by the set with her hand on the sound
dial.
She seemed entranced by the music, a frenzied little piano piece with a mesmerizing quality, which
alternated between quick, playful passages and teasing, lilting ones.
"Ni kan," my mother said, calling me over with hurried hand gestures. "Look here."
I could see why my mother was fascinated by the music. It was being pounded out by a little Chinese girl,
Mesmerizing (adjective)absorb somebody's
attention: to fascinate
somebody or absorb all of
somebody's attention.
Reread the highlighted
passage. Why does the
narrator’s mother believe
about her daughter’s
talent?
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about nine years old, with a Peter Pan haircut. The girl had the sauciness of a Shirley Temple. She was
proudly modest, like a proper Chinese Child. And she also did a fancy sweep of a curtsy, so that the fluffy
skirt of her white dress cascaded to the floor like petals of a large carnation.
In spite of these warning signs, I wasn't worried. Our family had no piano and we couldn't afford to buy
one, let alone reams of sheet music and piano lessons. So I could be generous in my comments when my
mother badmouthed the little girl on TV.
"Play note right, but doesn't sound good!" my mother complained "No singing sound."
"What are you picking on her for?" I said carelessly. “She’s pretty good. Maybe she's not the best, but she's
trying hard." I knew almost immediately that I would be sorry I had said that.
"Just like you," she said. "Not the best. Because you not trying." She gave a little huff as she let go of the
sound dial and sat down on the sofa.
The little Chinese girl sat down also, to play an encore of "Anitra's Tanz," by Grieg. I remember the song,
because later on I had to learn how to play it.
Three days after watching the Ed Sullivan Show my mother told me what my schedule would be for piano
lessons and piano practice. She had talked to Mr. Chong, who lived on the first floor of our apartment
building. Mr. Chong was a retired piano teacher, and my mother had traded housecleaning services for
weekly lessons and a piano for me to practice on every day, two hours a day, from four until six.
When my mother told me this, I felt as though I had been sent to hell. I whined, and then kicked my foot a
little when I couldn't stand it anymore.
"Why don't you like me the way I am?" I cried. "I'm not a genius! I can't play the piano. And even if I
could, I wouldn't go on TV if you paid me a million dollars!"
My mother slapped me. "Who ask you to be genius?" she shouted. "Only ask you be your best. For you
sake. You think I want you to be genius? Hnnh! What for! Who ask you!”?
"So ungrateful," I heard her mutter in Chinese, "If she had as much talent as she has temper, she'd be
famous now."
Mr. Chong, whom I secretly nicknamed Old Chong, was very strange, always tapping his fingers to the
silent music of an invisible orchestra. He looked ancient in my eyes. He had lost most of the h air on the top
of his head, and he wore thick glasses and had eyes that always looked tired. But he must have been
younger that I though, since he lived with his mother and was not yet married.
I met Old Lady Chong once, and that was enough. She had a peculiar smell, like a baby that had done
something in its pants, and her fingers felt like a dead person's, like an old peach I once found in the back
of the refrigerator: its skin just slid off the flesh when I picked it up.
I soon found out why Old Chong had retired from teaching piano. He was deaf. "Like Beethoven!" he
shouted to me: We're both listening only in our head!" And he would start to conduct his frantic silent
sonatas.
Our lessons went like this. He would open the book and point to different things, explaining, their purpose:
"Key! Treble! Bass! No sharps or flats! So this is C major! Listen now and play after me!"
And then he would play the C scale a few times, a simple cord, and then, as if inspired by an old
unreachable itch, he would gradually add more notes and running trills and a pounding bass until the music
was really something quite grand.
The conflict between the
mother and daughter
continues. Why does the
mother continue to push
her daughter?
Common Core L4c Oral
Fluency Certain English
Letter combinations are
pronounced differently in
different words. Usually ch
is pronounced /CH/, as in
cheese .Sometimes,
though it is pronounced
/K/, as in character.
Reread the highlighted
lines and find instances
where ch is pronounced as
/K/ and as /CH/. Use a
dictionary to check the
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I would play after him, the simple scale, the simple chord, and then just play some nonsense that sounded
like a cat running up and down on top of garbage cans. Old Chong would smile and applaud and say Very
good! Bt now you must learn to keep time!"
So that's how I discovered that Old Chong's eyes were too slow to keep up with the wrong notes I was
playing. He went through the motions in half time. To help me keep rhythm, he stood behind me and
pushed down on my right shoulder for every beat. He balanced pennies on top of my wrists so that I would
keep them still as I slowly played scales and arpeggios. He had me curve my hand around an apple and
keep that shame when playing chords. He marched stiffly to show me how to make each finger dance up
and down, staccato, like an obedient little soldier.
He taught me all these things and that was how I also learned I could be lazy and get away with mistakes,
lots of mistakes. If I hit the wrong notes because I hadn't practiced enough, I never corrected myself; I just
kept playing in rhythm. And Old Chong kept conducting his own private reverie.
So maybe I never really gave myself a fair chance. I did pick up the basics pretty quickly, and I might have
become a good pianist at the young age. But I was so determined not to try, not to be anybody different,
and I learned to play only the most ear-splitting preludes, the most discordant hymns.
Over the next year I practiced like this, dutifully in my own way. And then one day I heard my mother and
her friend Lindo Jong both after church, and I was leaning against a brick wall, wearing a dress with stiff
white petticoats. Auntie Lindo’s daughter, Waverly, who was my age, was standing farther down the wall,
about five feet away. We had grown up together and shared all the closeness of two sisters, squabbling over
crayons and dolls. In other words, for the most part, we hated each other. I thought she was snotty. Waverly
Jong had gained a certain amount of fame as "Chinatown's Littlest Chinese Chess Champion."
"She bring home too many trophy." Auntie Lindo lamented that Sunday. "All day she play chess. All day I
have no time do nothing but dust off her winnings." She threw a scolding look at Waverly, who pretended
not to see her.
"You lucky you don't have this problem," Auntie Lindo said with a sigh to my mother.
And my mother squared her shoulders and bragged: "our problem worser than yours. If we ask Jing-mei
wash dish, she hear nothing but music. It's like you can't stop this natural talent." And right then I was
determined to put a stop to her foolish pride.
A few weeks later Old Chong and my mother conspired to have me play in a talent show that was to be
held in the church hall. But then my parents had saved up enough to buy me a secondhand piano, a black
Wurlitzer spinet with a scarred bench. It was the showpiece of our living room.
For the talent show I was to play a piece called "Pleading Child," from Schumann's Scenes from Childhood.
It was a simple, moody piece that sounded more difficult than it was. I was supposed to memorize the
whole thing. But I dawdled over it, playing a few bars and then cheating, looking up to see what notes
followed. I never really listened to what I was playing. I daydreamed about being somewhere else, about
being someone else.
The part I liked to practice best was the fancy curtsy: right foot out, touch the rose on the carpet with a
pointed foot, sweep to the side, bend left leg, look up, and smile.
My parents invited all the couples from their social club to witness my debut. Auntie Lindo and Uncle Tin
were there. Waverly and her two older brothers had also come. The first two rows were filled with children
pronunciation of the
words you find.
INFER: Why does the
narrator intentionally do
poorly at her piano
lessons?
Reread the highlighted
passage. The narrator
overhears her mother
having a conversation with
Auntie Lindo and
concludes that it is “foolish
pride” that motivates her
mother to push her to be a
prodigy. Based on what
you know about her
mother so far, do you
agree with this conclusion?
Explain your answer.
Reread the highlighted
passage: How does the
narrator feel as she is
about to perform? How
does she feel when the
performance is over?
Explain.
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either younger or older than I was. The littlest ones got to go first. They recited simple nursery rhymes,
squawked out tunes on miniature violins, and twirled hula hoops in pink ballet tutus, and when they bowed
or curtsied, the audience would sigh in unison, "Awww, and then clap enthusiastically.
When my turn came, I was very confident. I remember my childish excitement. It was as if I knew, without
a doubt, that the prodigy side of me really did exist. I had no fear whatsoever, no nervousness. I remember
thinking, This is it! This is it! I looked out over the audience, at my mother's blank face, my father's yawn,
Auntie Lindo's stiff-lipped smile, Waverly's sulky expression. I had on a white dress, layered with sheets of
lace, and a pink bow in my Peter Pan haircut. As I sat down, I envisioned people jumping to their feet and
Ed Sullivan rushing up to introduce me to everyone on TV.
And I started to play. Everything was so beautiful. I was so caught up in how lovely I looked that I wasn't
worried about how I would sound. So I was surprised when I hit the first wrong note. And then I hit another
and another. A chill started at the top of my head and began to trickle down. Yet I couldn't stop playing, as
though my hands were bewitched. I kept thinking my fingers would adjust themselves back, like a train
switching to the right track. I played this strange jumble through to the end, the sour notes staying with me
all the way.
When I stood up, I discovered my legs were shaking. Maybe I had just been nervous, and the audience, like
Old Chong had seen me go through the right motions and had not heard anything wrong at all. I swept my
right foot out, went down on my knee, looked up, and smiled. The room was quiet, except for Old Chong,
who was beaming and shouting "Bravo! Bravo! Well done!" By then I saw my mother's face, her stricken
face. The audience clapped weakly, and I walked back to my chair, with my whole face quivering as I tried
not to cry, I heard a little boy whisper loudly to his mother. "That was awful," and mother whispered "Well,
she certainly tried."
And now I realized how many people were in the audience - the whole world, it seemed. I was aware of
eyes burning into my back. I felt the shame of my mother and father as they sat stiffly through the rest of
the show.
We could have escaped during intermission. Pride and some strange sense of honor must have anchored my
parents to their chairs. And so we watched it all. The eighteen-year-old boy with a fake moustache who did
a magic show and juggled flaming hoops while riding a unicycle. The breasted girl with white make up
who sang an aria from Madame Butterfly and got an honorable mention. And the eleven-year-old boy who
was first prize playing a tricky violin song that sounded like a busy bee.
After the show the Hsus, the Jongs, and the St. Clairs, from the Joy Luck Club, came up to my mother and
father.
Common Core RL 4
Language Alert: Fixed
Expressions A preposition
at the end of a verb can
change its meaning.
Reread the two highlighted
sentences. The phrase
“eyes burning” usually
refers to itchy or irritated
eyes, but “eyes burning
into my back” means
something else. How does
the narrator feel here?
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Analyze Visuals: This
visual, taken from the
movie, demonstrates what
the narrator’s reaction to
her poor piano playing
might have looked like.
Which of the two women
in this picture do you think
is most likely the narrator’s
mother? Explain.
"Lots of talented kids," Auntie Lindo said vaguely, smiling broadly. "That was somethin' else," my father
said, and I wondered if he was referring to me in a humorous way, or whether he even remembered what I
had done.
Waverly looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. "You aren't a genius like me," she said matter-of-factly.
And if I hadn't felt so bad, I would have pulled her braids and punched her stomach.
But my mother's expression was what devastated me: a quiet, blank look that said she had lost everything. I
felt the same way, and everybody seemed now to be coming up, like gawkers at the scene of an accident to
see what parts were actually missing.
When we got on the bus to go home, my father was humming the busy-bee tune and my mother kept silent.
I kept thinking she wanted to wait until we got home before shouting at me. But when my father unlocked
the door to our apartment, my mother walked in and went straight to the back, into the bedroom. No
accusations, No blame. And in a way, I felt disappointed. I had been waiting for her to start shouting, so
that I could shout back and cry and blame her for all my misery.
I had assumed that my talent-show fiasco meant that I would never have to play the piano again. But two
days later, after school, my mother came out of the kitchen and saw me watching TV.
"Four clock," she reminded me, as if it were any other day. I was stunned, as though she were asking me to
go through the talent-show torture again. I planted myself more squarely in front of the TV.
"Turn off TV," she called from the kitchen five minutes later. I didn't budge. And then I decided, I didn't
have to do what mother said anymore. I wasn't her slave. This wasn't China. I had listened to her before,
and look what happened she was the stupid one.
She came out of the kitchen and stood in the arched entryway of the living room. "Four clock," she said
once again, louder.
"I'm not going to play anymore," I said nonchalantly. "Why should I? I'm not a genius."
She stood in front of the TV. I saw that her chest was heaving up and down in an angry way.
"No!" I said, and I now felt stronger, as if my true self had finally emerged. So this was what had been
inside me all along.
"No! I won't!" I screamed. She snapped off the TV, yanked me by the arm and pulled me off the floor. She
Fiasco (noun) – a totally
failure; complete disaster
Nonchalantly (adverb) –
casually, indifferently
13
was frighteningly strong, half pulling, half carrying me towards the piano as I kicked the throw rugs under
my feet. She lifted me up onto the hard bench. I was sobbing by now, looking at her bitterly. Her chest was
heaving even more and her mouth was open, smiling crazily as if she were pleased that I was crying.
"You want me to be something that I'm not!" I sobbed. " I'll never be the kind of daughter you want me to
be!"
"Only two kinds of daughters," she shouted in Chinese. "Those who are obedient and those who follow
their own mind! Only one kind of daughter can live in this house. Obedient daughter!"
"Then I wish I weren't your daughter, I wish you weren't my mother," I shouted. As I said these things I got
scared. It felt like worms and toads and slimy things crawling out of my chest, but it also felt good, that this
awful side of me had surfaced, at last.
"Too late to change this," my mother said shrilly.
And I could sense her anger rising to its breaking point. I wanted see it spill over. And that's when I
remembered the babies she had lost in China, the ones we never talked about. "Then I wish I'd never been
born!" I shouted. “I wish I were dead! Like them."
It was as if I had said magic words. Alakazam!-her face went blank, her mouth closed, her arms went slack,
and she backed out of the room, stunned, as if she were blowing away like a small brown leaf, thin, brittle,
lifeless.
It was not the only disappointment my mother felt in me. In the years that followed, I failed her many
times, each time asserting my will, my right to fall short of expectations. I didn't get straight As. I didn't
become class president. I didn't get into Stanford. I dropped out of college.
Unlike my mother, I did not believe I could be anything I wanted to be, I could only be me.
And for all those years we never talked about the disaster at the recital or my terrible declarations afterward
at the piano bench. Neither of us talked about it again, as if it were a betrayal that was now unspeakable. So
I never found a way to ask her why she had hoped for something so large that failure was inevitable.
And even worse, I never asked her about what frightened me the most: Why had she given up hope? For
after our struggle at the piano, she never mentioned my playing again. The lessons stopped. The lid to the
piano was closed shutting out the dust, my misery, and her dreams.
So she surprised me. A few years ago she offered to give me the piano, for my thirtieth birthday. I had not
played in all those years. I saw the offer as a sign of forgiveness, a tremendous burden removed. "Are you
sure?" I asked shyly. "I mean, won't you and Dad miss it?" "No, this your piano," she said firmly. "Always
your piano. You only one can play."
"Well, I probably can't play anymore," I said. "It's been years." "You pick up fast," my mother said, as if
she knew this was certain. “You have natural talent. You could be a genius if you want to." "No, I
couldn't." I said. "You just not trying," my mother said. And she was neither angry nor sad. She said it as if
announcing a fact that could never be disproved. "Take it," she said.
But I didn't at first. It was enough that she had offered it to me. And after that, every time I saw it in my
parents' living room, standing in front of the bay window, it made me feel proud, as if it were a shiny
trophy that I had won back.
Last week I sent a tuner over to my parent's apartment and had the piano reconditioned, for purely
sentimental reasons. My mother had died a few months before and I had been begetting things in order for
Why does the narrator
assume she will not have
to play the piano
anymore? Explain?
In your own words, explain
the two types of daughter
are described by the
narrator’s mother.
Theme: The title a story is
very often a clue to the
story’s theme. The title of
this story comes from this
heated exchange between
mother and daughter. How
do the narrator’s values
differ from her mother’s?
Use examples to explain
your answer.
Why does it surprise the
narrator that her mother
offers her the piano for her
30th birthday? In what
ways is this offering
symbolic?
Come to a Conclusion: In
fiction, some characters
stay static, or don’t
change, while others are
dynamic, or change
14
my father a little bit at a time. I put the jewelry in special silk pouches. The sweaters I put in mothproof
boxes. I found some old Chinese silk dresses, the kind with little slits up the sides. I rubbed the old silk
against my skin, and then wrapped them in tissue and decided to take them hoe with me.
After I had the piano tuned, I opened the lid and touched the keys. It sounded even richer that I
remembered. Really, it was a very good piano. Inside the bench were the same exercise notes with
handwritten scales, the same secondhand music books with their covers held together with yellow tape.
I opened up the Schumann book to the dark little piece I had played at the recital. It was on the left-hand
page, "Pleading Child." It looked more difficult than I remembered. I played a few bars, surprised at how
easily the notes came back to me.
And for the first time, or so it seemed, I noticed the piece on the right-hand side. It was called "Perfectly
Contented." I tried to play this one as well. It had a lighter melody but with the same flowing rhythm and
turned out to be quite easy. "Pleading Child" was shorter but slower; "Perfectly Contented" was longer but
faster. And after I had played them both a few times, I realized they were two halves of the same song.
[1989]
throughout the story.
Reread the highlighted
conversation. How has the
mother changed? Explain
your answer.
Theme and Symbolism:
How can the offering of
the piano be seen as a
symbolic gesture? How
does this help the reader
ascertain a potential
theme for the story?
Come to a Conclusion: A
paradox is a statement
that appears to be a
contradiction but reveals
some truth. What paradox
is expressed in the story’s
final paragraph? What
truth do you see in it?
After Reading Questions
Common Core Standards RL 2 Determine a theme or central idea of a text and analyze in detail its development over the course of the text,
including how it emerges and is shaped and refined by specific details; RL.3 Analyze how complex characters (e.g., those with multiple or
conflicting motivations) develop over the course of a text, interact with other characters, and advance the plot or develop the theme.
1. RECALL – In “Two Kinds”, what does the mother expect her daughter to be?
2. RECALL – What does the narrator’s mother offer her for her 30th birthday?
15
3. SUMMARIZE – What can you infer about the narrator of this story? In other words, what were some of her characteristics?
4. MAKING INFERENCES – Jing-mei’s mother exclaims, “You already know how. You don’t need talent for crying!” What does the mother’s
comment expose about the narrator, Jing-mei?
5. EVALUATING CONFLICTIn the story the conflict between mother and daughter goes on for a very long time, well into the
narrator’s adult life. Why is this? Is the conflict ever resolved between mother and daughter? Include evidence from the story to support
your answer.
6. EVALUATE CHARACTERS – Characters in fictional stories can be just as surprising as people in real life. Yet, authors aim to create
authentic and credible characters. Do you think the mother and daughter characters in this story are believable? Why or why not?
Support your answer with evidence from the text.
7. What do you think is the theme for this story? What evidence from the text supports your idea?
Rice and Rose Bowl Blues
Diane Mei Lin Mark
16
I remember the day
Mama called me in from
the football game with brothers
and neighbor boys
in our front yard
said it was time
I learned to
wash rice for dinner
glancing out the window
I watched a pass interception
setting the other team up
on our 20
Pour some water
into the pot,
she said pleasantly,
turning on the tap
Rub the rice
between your hands,
pour out the clouds,
Fill it again
(I secretly traced
an end run through
the grains in
between pourings)
with the rice
settled into a simmer
I started out the door
but was called back
the next day
Roland from across the street
sneeringly said he heard
I couldn’t’ play football
17
anymore
I laughed loudly,
asking him
where
he’d heard
such a thing
18
Questions for “Rice Bowl Blues”
Common Core Standards: RL. 1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as
inferences drawn from the text. RL.3 Analyze how complex characters develop the theme.
1. Based on the title, Rice Bowl Blues, what might a reader be able to infer about the way the writer feels about her subject?
2. What can readers infer about the character of the speaker in this poem?
3. In this poem, how does gender play a role in the tension between the speaker and her mother? Use evidence from the text to
support your answer.
4. What can you tell about the speaker’s feelings from her reaction to Roland? Explain your answer using details from the poem.
5. How does the speaker connect to the narrator in “Two Kinds”? Explain using details from both texts.
Theme
Remember a theme is a
complete thought. No 2nd
person or 1st person!
Quote
Make sure you give credit to
the author with a citation.
(Mark pg #).
Explain
How the quote proves your
theme. Do not tell me what
the quote shows or re-word
the quote. Really analyze how
it proves your theme.
19
Reading Informational Texts…
Tiger Moms: Is Tough Parenting Really the Answer?
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother author Amy Chua's proudly politically incorrect account of raising her children "the
Chinese way" has revealed American fears about losing ground to China and preparing our kids to survive in the global
economy
By Annie Murphy Paul Thursday, Jan. 20, 2011
Also found online @: http://content.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,2043477,00.html
20
In the Time Magazine Article, “The Truth about Tiger Moms” the author Annie Murphy Paul explores the parenting values
of a Chinese-American mother. Paul focuses on a controversial book by Amy Chua, a Chinese-American mother. In her
memoir Chua shares that Chinese-American mothers parent differently compared to American parents. Paul goes beyond
the book and finds that in real life, like the mothers in “Two Kinds” and “Rice Bowl Blues”, many Chinese-American
mothers hold very high expectations for their children, expect them to be over-achievers in all things, and adhere to tough
parenting tactics, including pushing kids to the limits and tolerating nothing less than their very best.
Directions: Read the article and circle important quotes and/or information that hint to the main idea of this article.
Remember to think about the short story “Two Kinds” and the poem “Rice Bowl Blues” and their themes as you read this
article and search for its central meaning.
The Truth about Tiger Moms
It was the "Little White Donkey" incident that pushed many readers over the edge. That's the name of the piano tune that
Amy Chua, Yale law professor and self-described "tiger mother," forced her 7-year-old daughter Lulu to practice for hours
on end — "right through dinner into the night," with no breaks for water or even the bathroom, until at last Lulu learned to
play the piece.
For other readers, it was Chua calling her older daughter Sophia "garbage" after the girl behaved disrespectfully — the
same thing Chua had been called as a child by her strict Chinese father.
And, oh, yes, for some readers it was the card that young Lulu made for her mother's birthday. "I don't want this," Chua
announced, adding that she expected to receive a drawing that Lulu had "put some thought and effort into." Throwing the
card back at her daughter, she told her, "I deserve better than this. So I reject this."
Even before Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Chua's proudly politically incorrect account of raising her children "the
Chinese way," arrived in bookstores Jan. 11, her parenting methods were the incredulous, indignant talk of every
playground, supermarket and coffee shop. A prepublication excerpt in the Wall Street Journal (titled "Why Chinese
Mothers Are Superior") started the ferocious buzz; the online version has been read more than 1 million times and
21
attracted more than 7,000 comments so far. When Chua appeared Jan. 11 on the Today show, the usually sunny host
Meredith Vieira could hardly contain her contempt as she read aloud a sample of viewer comments: "She's a monster";
"The way she raised her kids is outrageous"; "Where is the love, the acceptance?"
Chua, a petite 48-year-old who carries off a short-skirted wardrobe that could easily be worn by her daughters (now 15
and 18), gave as good as she got. "To be perfectly honest, I know that a lot of Asian parents are secretly shocked and
horrified by many aspects of Western parenting," including "how much time Westerners allow their kids to waste — hours
on Facebook and computer games — and in some ways, how poorly they prepare them for the future," she told Vieira
with a toss of her long hair. "It's a tough world out there."
Chua's reports from the trenches of authoritarian parenthood are indeed disconcerting, even shocking, in their candid
admission of maternal ruthlessness. Her book is a Mommie Dearest for the age of the memoir, when we tell tales on
ourselves instead of our relatives. But there's something else behind the intense reaction to Tiger Mother, which has shot
to the top of best-seller lists even as it's been denounced on the airwaves and the Internet. Though Chua was born and
raised in the U.S., her invocation of what she describes as traditional "Chinese parenting" has hit hard at a national sore
spot: our fears about losing ground to China and other rising powers and about adequately preparing our children to
survive in the global economy. Her stories of never accepting a grade lower than an A, of insisting on hours of math and
spelling drills and piano and violin practice each day (weekends and vacations included), of not allowing playdates or
sleepovers or television or computer games or even school plays, for goodness' sake, have left many readers outraged
but also defensive. The tiger mother's cubs are being raised to rule the world, the book clearly implies, while the offspring
of "weak-willed," "indulgent" Westerners are growing up ill equipped to compete in a fierce global marketplace.
One of those permissive American parents is Chua's husband, Jed Rubenfeld (also a professor at Yale Law School). He
makes the occasional cameo appearance in Tiger Mother, cast as the tenderhearted foil to Chua's merciless taskmaster.
When Rubenfeld protested Chua's harangues over "The Little White Donkey," for instance, Chua informed him that his
older daughter Sophia could play the piece when she was Lulu's age. Sophia and Lulu are different people, Rubenfeld
remonstrated reasonably. "Oh, no, not this," Chua shot back, adopting a mocking tone: "Everyone is special in their
special own way. Even losers are special in their own special way."
With a stroke of her razor-sharp pen, Chua has set a whole nation of parents to wondering: Are we the losers she's talking
about?
Americans have ample reason to wonder these days, starting with our distinctly loserish economy. Though experts have
declared that the recent recession is now over, economic growth in the third quarter of 2010 was an anemic 2.6%, and
22
many economists say unemployment will continue to hover above 9%. Part of the reason? Jobs outsourced to countries
like Brazil, India and China. Our housing values have declined, our retirement and college funds have taken a beating,
and we're too concerned with paying our monthly bills to save much, even if we had the will to change our ingrained
consumerist ways. Meanwhile, in China, the economy is steaming along at more than 10% annual growth, and the
country is running a $252.4 billion trade surplus with the U.S. China's government is pumping its new wealth right back
into the country, building high-speed rail lines and opening new factories.
If our economy suffers by comparison with China's, so does our system of primary and secondary education. That
became clear in December, when the latest test results from the Program for International Student Assessment (PISA)
were released. American students were mired in the middle: 17th in reading, 23rd in science and 31st in math — 17th
overall. For the first time since PISA began its rankings in 2000, students in Shanghai took the test — and they blew
everyone else away, achieving a decisive first place in all three categories. When asked to account for the results,
education experts produced a starkly simple explanation: Chinese students work harder, with more focus, for longer hours
than American students do. It's true that students in boomtown Shanghai aren't representative of those in all of China, but
when it comes to metrics like test scores, symbolism matters. Speaking on education in December, a sober President
Obama noted that the U.S. has arrived at a "Sputnik moment": the humbling realization that another country is pulling
ahead in a contest we'd become used to winning.
Such anxious ruminations seem to haunt much of our national commentary these days, even in the unlikeliest of contexts.
When the National Football League postponed a Philadelphia Eagles game in advance of the late-December blizzard on
the East Coast, outgoing Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell was left fuming: "We've become a nation of wusses," he
declared on a radio program. "The Chinese are kicking our butt in everything. If this was in China, do you think the
Chinese would have called off the game? People would have been marching down to the stadium. They would have
walked, and they would have been doing calculus on the way down."
These national identity crises are nothing new. During the mid–20th century, we kept a jealous eye on the Soviets,
obsessively monitoring their stores of missiles, their ranks of cosmonauts and even their teams of gymnasts, using these
as an index of our own success (not to mention the prospects for our survival). In the 1980s, we fretted that Japan was
besting us with its technological wizardry and clever product design — the iPod of the '80s was the Sony Walkman — and
its investors' acquisitions of American name-brand companies and prime parcels of real estate.
Now the Soviet Union has dissolved into problem-plagued Russia, and our rivalry with the Japanese has faded as another
one has taken its place: last year, China surpassed Japan as the world's second largest economy. The U.S. is still No. 1
— but for how long? We're rapidly reaching the limit on how much money the federal government can borrow — and our
23
single biggest creditor is China. How long, for that matter, can the beleaguered U.S. education system keep pace with a
rapidly evolving and increasingly demanding global marketplace? Chinese students already have a longer school year
than American pupils — and U.S. kids spend more time sitting in front of the TV than in the classroom.
The document that finally focused the nation's attention on these crucial questions was not a blue-ribbon study or a hefty
government report, but a slender book that sprang from one mother's despair over her daughter's teenage rebellion.
Amy Chua lives in New Haven, Conn., in an imposing mock-Tudor mansion — complete with gargoyles — that was built
in the 1920s for a vaudeville impresario. The woman who descends the winding stone stairway and opens the studded
wooden door, however, is wearing a sweatshirt, jeans and a friendly smile. As we take a seat in Chua's living room, the
laughter of her older daughter Sophia and her boyfriend (yes, she's allowed to have a boyfriend) floats down from the
second floor, and the fluffy white dog that Chua tried, and failed, to discipline stretches comfortably on the rug.
The first thing Chua wants you to know is that she is not a monster. "Everything I do as a mother builds on a foundation of
love and compassion," she says. Love and compassion, plus punishingly high expectations: this is how Chua herself was
raised. Though her parents are ethnically Chinese, they lived for many years in the Philippines and immigrated to America
two years before Chua was born. Chua and her three younger sisters were required to speak Chinese at home; for each
word of English they uttered, they received a whack with a pair of chopsticks. On the girls' report cards, only A's were
acceptable. When Chua took her father to an awards assembly at which she received second prize, he was furious.
"Never, ever disgrace me like that again," he told her.
Some react to an exceedingly strict household by becoming permissive parents, but not Chua. When she had children of
her own, she resolved to raise them the same way. "I see my upbringing as a great success story," she says. "By
disciplining me, my parents inculcated self-discipline. And by restricting my choices as a child, they gave me so many
choices in my life as an adult. Because of what they did then, I get to do the work I love now." Chua's path to her
profession was not a straight one — she tried out the premed track and a major in economics before settling on law
school — but it was made possible, she says, by the work ethic her parents instilled.
All the same, Chua recognizes that her parents' attitudes were shaped by experiences very different from her own. Her
mother and father endured severe hardship under the Japanese occupation of the Philippines; later they had to make
their way in a new country and a new language. For them, security and stability were paramount. "They didn't think about
children's happiness," Chua says. "They thought about preparing us for the future." But Chua says her children's
24
happiness is her primary goal; her intense focus on achievement is simply, she says, "the vehicle" to help them find, as
she has, genuine fulfillment in a life's work.
The second thing Chua wants you to know is that the hard-core parenting she set out to do didn't work — not completely,
anyway. "When my children were young, I was very cocky," Chua acknowledges. "I thought I could maintain total control.
And in fact my first child, Sophia, was very compliant." Then came Lulu.
From the beginning, Chua's second daughter was nothing like her obedient sister. As a fetus, she kicked — hard. As an
infant, she screamed for hours every night. And as a budding teenager she refused to get with her mother's academic and
extracurricular program. In particular, the two fought epic battles over violin practice: " 'all-out nuclear warfare' doesn't
quite capture it," Chua writes. Finally, after a screaming, glass-smashing, very public showdown, the tiger mother admitted
defeat: "Lulu," she said, "you win. It's over. We're giving up the violin." Not long after, Chua typed the first words of her
memoir — not as an exercise in maternal bravado but as an earnest attempt to understand her daughters, her parents
and herself.
That was a year and a half ago. Today, Chua has worked out some surprising compromises with her children. Sophia can
go out on dates and must practice the piano for an hour and a half each day instead of as many as six hours. Lulu is
allowed to pursue her passion for tennis. (Her mother's daughter, she's become quite good at the sport, making the high
school varsity team — "the only junior high school kid to do so," as Chua can't help pointing out.) And Chua says she
doesn't want to script her children's futures. "I really don't have any particular career path in mind for Sophia and Lulu, as
long as they feel passionate about it and give it their best." As her girls prepare to launch themselves into their own lives
— Sophia goes off to college next fall — Chua says she wouldn't change much about the way she raised them. Perhaps
more surprising, her daughters say they intend to be strict parents one day too — though they plan to permit more time
with friends, even the occasional sleepover.
25
Most surprising of all to Chua's detractors may be the fact that many elements of her approach are supported by research
in psychology and cognitive science. Take, for example, her assertion that American parents go too far in insulating their
children from discomfort and distress. Chinese parents, by contrast, she writes, "assume strength, not fragility, and as a
result they behave very differently." In the 2008 book A Nation of Wimps, author Hara Estroff Marano, editor-at-large of
Psychology Today magazine, marshals evidence that shows Chua is correct. "Research demonstrates that children who
are protected from grappling with difficult tasks don't develop what psychologists call 'mastery experiences,' " Marano
explains. "Kids who have this well-earned sense of mastery are more optimistic and decisive; they've learned that they're
capable of overcoming adversity and achieving goals." Children who have never had to test their abilities, says Marano,
grow into "emotionally brittle" young adults who are more vulnerable to anxiety and depression.
Another parenting practice with which Chua takes issue is Americans' habit, as she puts it, of "slathering praise on their
kids for the lowest of tasks — drawing a squiggle or waving a stick." Westerners often laud their children as "talented" or
"gifted," she says, while Asian parents highlight the importance of hard work. And in fact, research performed by Stanford
psychologist Carol Dweck has found that the way parents offer approval affects the way children perform, even the way
they feel about themselves.
Dweck has conducted studies with hundreds of students, mostly early adolescents, in which experimenters gave the
subjects a set of difficult problems from an IQ test. Afterward, some of the young people were praised for their ability: "You
must be smart at this." Others were praised for their effort: "You must have worked really hard." The kids who were
complimented on their intelligence were much more likely to turn down the opportunity to do a challenging new task that
26
they could learn from. "They didn't want to do anything that could expose their deficiencies and call into question their
talent," Dweck says. Ninety percent of the kids who were praised for their hard work, however, were eager to take on the
demanding new exercise.
One more way in which the tiger mother's approach differs from that of her Western counterparts: her willingness to drill,
baby, drill. When Sophia came in second on a multiplication speed test at school, Chua made her do 20 practice tests
every night for a week, clocking her with a stopwatch. "Tenacious practice, practice, practice is crucial for excellence; rote
repetition is underrated in America," she writes. In this, Chua is right, says Daniel Willingham, a professor of psychology at
the University of Virginia. "It's virtually impossible to become proficient at a mental task without extensive practice," he
notes.
What's more, Willingham says, "if you repeat the same task again and again, it will eventually become automatic. Your
brain will literally change so that you can complete the task without thinking about it." Once this happens, the brain has
made mental space for higher-order operations: for interpreting literary works, say, and not simply decoding their words;
for exploring the emotional content of a piece of music, and not just playing the notes. Brain scans of experimental
subjects who are asked to execute a sequence of movements, for example, show that as the sequence is repeated, the
parts of the brain associated with motor skills become less active, allowing brain activity to shift to the areas associated
with higher-level thinking and reflection.
Cognitive neuroscience, in other words, confirms the wisdom of what the tiger mother knew all along. "What Chinese
parents understand," says Chua, "is that nothing is fun until you're good at it." That may be an overstatement — but if
being good at reading or math or music permits a greater degree of engagement and expressiveness, that would seem to
be a very desirable thing.
All that said, however, psychologists universally decry the use of threats and name calling — verbal weapons frequently
deployed by Chua — as harmful to children's individual development and to the parent-child relationship. So just what
does she have to say about the notorious episodes recounted in her book?
About "The Little White Donkey": she was perhaps too severe in enforcing long hours of practice, Chua says now. Still,
she says, it was important for Sophia and Lulu to learn what they were capable of. "It might sound harsh, but kids really
shouldn't be able to take the easy way out," she explains. "If a child has the experience, even once, of successfully doing
something she didn't think she could do, that lesson will stick with her for the rest of her life." Recently, Chua says, Lulu
27
told her that during a math test at school that day she had looked at a question and drawn a blank. "Lulu said, 'Then I
heard your annoying voice in my head, saying, "Keep thinking! I know you can do this" — and the answer just came to
me!' "
On calling Sophia "garbage": "There are some things I did that I regret and wish I could change, and that's one of them,"
Chua says. But, she notes, her father used similar language with her, "and I knew it was because he thought well of me
and was sure I could do better." Chua's parents are now in their 70s, and she says she feels nothing but love and respect
for them: "We're a very tight family, all three generations of us, and I think that's because I was shown a firm hand and my
kids were shown a firm hand."
And Lulu's birthday card? Chua stands by that one. "My girls know the difference between working hard on something and
dashing something off," she says firmly. "They know that I treasure the drawings and poems they put effort into."
More than anything, it's Chua's maternal confidence — her striking lack of ambivalence about her choices as a parent —
that has inspired both ire and awe among the many who have read her words. Since her book's publication, she says, email messages have poured in from around the globe, some of them angry and even threatening but many of them wistful
or grateful. "A lot of people have written to say that they wished their parents had pushed them when they were younger,
that they think they could have done more with their lives," Chua recounts. "Other people have said that after reading my
book they finally understand their parents and why they did what they did. One man wrote that he sent his mother flowers
and a note of thanks, and she called him up, weeping."
So should we all be following Chua's example? She wrote a memoir, not a manual. She does make it clear, however, that
Chinese mothers don't have to be Chinese: "I know some Korean, Indian, Jamaican, Irish and Ghanaian parents who
qualify too," she writes. The tiger-mother approach isn't an ethnicity but a philosophy: expect the best from your children,
and don't settle for anything less.
Among those who are decidedly not following Chua's lead are many parents and educators in China. For educated urban
Chinese parents, the trend is away from the strict traditional model and toward a more relaxed American style. Chinese
authorities, meanwhile, are increasingly dissatisfied with the country's public education system, which has long been
based on rote learning and memorization. They are looking to the West for inspiration — not least because they know
they must produce more creative and innovative graduates to power the high-end economy they want to develop. The
lesson here: depending on where you stand, there may always be an approach to child rearing that looks more appealing
than the one you've got.
28
Marano doesn't see us whistling Chua's battle hymn just yet. "Kids can grow and thrive under a wide variety of parenting
styles," she says. "But American parenting, at its best, combines ambitious expectations and a loving environment with a
respect for each child's individual differences and a flexibility in parental roles and behavior. You can set high standards in
your household and help your children meet them without resorting to the extreme measures Chua writes about." Western
parents have their own highly effective strategies for promoting learning, such as free play — something Chua never
mentions. On a national scale, the U.S. economy may be taking a hit, but it has far from collapsed. American secondary
education may be in crisis, but its higher education is the envy of the world — especially China. We have not stopped
inventing and innovating, in Silicon Valley or in Detroit.
There's no doubt that Chua's methods are extreme (though her stories, she hints, may have been slightly exaggerated for
effect). But her account, arriving just after those unnervingly high test scores from Shanghai, has created a rare
opportunity. Sometimes it takes a dramatic intervention to get our attention. After the 1957 launch of Sputnik, America did
rise to the Soviets' challenge: less than a year later, Congress passed the National Defense Education Act, which
invested billions of dollars in the U.S. education system. Within five years, John Glenn was orbiting Earth, and less than a
decade after that, we put a man on the moon.
Clare Boothe Luce, the American playwright, Congresswoman and ambassador, called the beeps emitted by Sputnik as it
sailed through space "an intercontinental outer-space raspberry," a jeer at the notion that America had some "gilt-edged
guarantee of national superiority." Think of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother as a well-timed taunt aimed at our own
complacent sense of superiority, our belief that America will always come out on top. That won't be the case unless we
make it so. We can get caught up in the provocative details of Chua's book (did she really threaten to burn her daughter's
stuffed animals?), or we can use her larger point as an impetus to push ourselves forward, the way our countrymen often
have in the past.
For though Chua hails the virtues of "the Chinese way," the story she tells is quintessentially American. It's the tale of an
immigrant striver, determined to make a better life for himself and his family in a nation where such dreams are still
possible. "I remember my father working every night until 3 in the morning; I remember him wearing the same pair of
shoes for eight years," Chua says. "Knowing the sacrifices he and my mother made for us made me want to uphold the
family name, to make my parents proud."
Hard work, persistence, no patience for excuses: whether Chinese or American, that sounds like a prescription for
success with which it's very difficult to argue.
29
Questions for Magazine Article
Common Core Standards: RI.1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as
inferences drawn from the text. RI.2 Determine a central idea of a text and analyze its development over the course of the text, including how it
emerges and is shaped and refined by specific details; provide an objective summary of the text.
In the dialectical journal below, analyze the three quotes chosen for you. Discuss how they connect to the central idea of
this article, and how they may connect to the themes in “Two Kinds” and “Rice Bowl Blues”. Then choose three more
important quotes or information from the article and analyze them the same way. Finally, state the main idea of the article.
Quote or information from text
Analysis
1."To be perfectly honest, I know that a lot of Asian parents are secretly
shocked and horrified by many aspects of Western parenting," including
"how much time Westerners allow their kids to waste — hours on
Facebook and computer games — and in some ways, how poorly they
prepare them for the future," she told Vieira with a toss of her long hair.
"It's a tough world out there." – author of memoir, Battle Hymn of the
Tiger Mother, Amy Chua
2. Take, for example, her assertion that American parents go too far in
insulating their children from discomfort and distress. Chinese parents,
by contrast, she writes, "assume strength, not fragility, and as a result
they behave very differently." In the 2008 book A Nation of Wimps,
author Hara Estroff Marano, editor-at-large of Psychology Today
magazine, marshals evidence that shows Chua is correct. "Research
demonstrates that children who are protected from grappling with
difficult tasks don't develop what psychologists call 'mastery
experiences,' Marano explains, “Kids who have this well-earned sense
of mastery are more optimistic and decisive; they've learned that they're
capable of overcoming adversity and achieving goals." Children who
have never had to test their abilities, says Marano, grow into
"emotionally brittle" young adults who are more vulnerable to anxiety
and depression.
3. For though Chua hails the virtues of "the Chinese way," the story she
tells is quintessentially American. It's the tale of an immigrant striver,
determined to make a better life for himself and his family in a nation
where such dreams are still possible. "I remember my father working
Example Answer: From this quote by the author of Battle Hymn of the Tiger
Mother, I understand that this Asian mother believes children should not waste
their time on activities that will not improve their mental abilities; they should
always be striving to be better, and that the author believes Westerner parents
(ie. Americans) allow their kids way too much free time. In order to succeed in
an exceedingly competitive world, parents must push their kids constantly to
work hard and be their best. This main idea is very much connected to Two
Kinds because the mother of the narrator believed the same things and pushed
her daughter to be a high achiever.
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every night until 3 in the morning; I remember him wearing the same
pair of shoes for eight years," Chua says. "Knowing the sacrifices he
and my mother made for us made me want to uphold the family name,
to make my parents proud."
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Analyzing Media: Interview with Author and Mom, Amy Chua
Directions: In the Time Magazine article, “The Truth About Tiger Moms” the author Annie Murphy Paul explores the memoir written by ChineseAmerican mother Amy Chua, and connects it to the way other Chinese-American mother’s raise their children. The article focuses on the “tough
love” and no excuses style parenting of Chua and her peers in the Asian-American community and highlights the almost cruel parenting tactics
used, all for the purpose of raising kids that are high achievers able to compete in today’s super competitive world. Many readers are left feeling
that this “Tiger Mom” style parenting is unhealthy and damaging to children.
Now you will watch an interview with Chua. You will see her talk about her parenting style and learn about what she really thinks about her
children. When you are done, you will be asked to consider the differences in the way she is portrayed in the Time Magazine Article and how she
is portrayed in the media clip. Pay attention to her tone, body language, and the difference between hearing what she says in person and what
she is quoted as saying in the article. Watch the interview @ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAel_qRfKx8
Questions
Common Core Standards: RI. 7 Analyze various accounts of a subject told in different mediums determining which details are emphasized in
each account.
1. What is different about the way Chua is able to share her ideas in this interview versus the way they are shared for her in the Time Magazine
article? What details are emphasized in the article that Chua says were taken out of context? What might this teach readers to think about when
reading secondary sources versus hearing it straight from the source? Use details from both the interview and the magazine to support your
answer. 2. What similarities are there between Chua and the mother’s in both “Two Kinds” and “The Rice Bowl Blues”? Think about what their
purposes and goals are for their children? Use details from the short story, the poem, the article, and the video to support your answer.
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Additional Resource: Movie Clip from The Dead Poet’s Society
The Dead’s Poet Society is a movie about kids who must live to fulfill the dreams their parents have for them. In this quick
clip from the famous 1989 film, a teenage student is pushed way out of his comfort zone by a demanding, but caring teacher.
What happens is magical, and proves that in order to reach our full potential, we must stretch ourselves further than what is
comfortable.
What the clip here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1j5ViWIyII
Question:
Common Core Standards: RI. 7 Analyze various accounts of a subject told in different mediums determining which details are emphasized in
each account.
1. How did pushing this student out of his comfort benefit him in the end? What might be the message from this scene?
Explain your answer.
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Comparing Themes in….Fiction, Poetry, Nonfiction, and Media
Directions: Now you will compare the themes and main ideas found in the short story “Two Kinds”, the poem “Rice Bowl Blues”, the
article, “The Truth about Tiger Moms”, and the media clip / interview with Amy Chua. After you complete the chart, you will create
a Prezi Presentation and present your findings to the class. State the theme or main idea, and then provide details and evidence to
support your opinions.
Common Core Standards: RI. 7 Analyze various accounts of a subject told in different mediums determining which details are emphasized in each
account. RI.1 Cite strong and thorough textual evidence to support analysis of what the text says explicitly as well as inferences drawn from the
text. RI. 2 Determine a central idea of a text and analyze its development over the course of the text, including how it emerges and is shaped and
refined by specific details RL. 2 Determine a theme or central idea of a text and analyze in detail its development over the course of the text,
including how it emerges and is shaped and refined by specific details
Theme in “Two Kinds”….
Theme in “Rice Bowl Blues”…
Main Idea in “The Truth about
Tiger Moms”…
Main Idea in Media
Clip/Interview…
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What is the similar message is shared between these four diverse texts?
TECHNOLOGY CONNECTION: Prezi Presentation Project: Once you have come up with the four themes/main ideas for each text,
and decided on one theme or main idea they all share, create a Prezi that presents all of your ideas. Once your Prezi is completed,
you will share it with your class. Take notice of how many other students share your same ideas, and how many had different
perspectives of the texts. Your teacher may have your present in class, or post to a class website or blog, and analyze each other’s
work.
Common Core Standards: SL. 1a Come to discussions prepared having read and researched material under study; explicitly draw on that
preparation by referring to evidence from texts and other research on the topic or issue to stimulate a thoughtful, well-reasoned exchange of ideas.
SL. 2 Integrate multiple sources of information presented in diverse media or formats (e.g., visually, quantitatively, orally) evaluating the credibility
and accuracy of each source. SL.4 Present information, findings, and supporting evidence clearly, concisely, and logically such that listeners can
follow the line of reasoning and the organization, development, substance, and style are appropriate to purpose, audience, and task
SL. 5 Make strategic use of digital media (e.g., textual, graphical, audio, visual, and interactive elements) in presentations to enhance
understanding of findings, reasoning, and evidence and to add interest.
You can sign up for a free Prezi here: https://prezi.com/profile/registration/?license_type=PUBLIC
Students may also use a PowerPoint Presentation to complete this assignment.
***Here are a few example Prezi Presentations for a different, but similar assignment:
http://prezi.com/_tgkkouqanp_/two-kinds/
http://prezi.com/beq7gmem2wmk/analysis-of-two-kinds-by-amy-tan/
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