WSJ article would be funny if it is not actually pretty accurate. I don't know whether to cry or to laugh.
My daughter wrote an essay on the same topic in high school, echoing some of same observations. Here it is, for the kick.
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How to be a perfect Chinese-American kid
By Yiren L (age 14)
THERE are many inside jokes circulating around the Chinese-American community, but one is particularly relevant, and in a way, bitterly funny.
"To be a perfect Chinese-American kid," it goes, "you must score 2,400 on the SAT; apply to and be accepted by 27 colleges, all of them in the top parameters of the annual US News & World Report rankings; and win enough scholarships to pay for it. Have three hobbies: math, piano, and more math; love classical music and detest talking on the phone; and lastly, accept your parents' unfortunate fashion choices with enthusiasm."
The joke reflects the fact that lofty aspirations have become a standard expectation, and of course, it reinforces the stereotype of the corkscrew glasses wearing, eternally studying, and no social life-ing Chinese American dork, who, to the dismay of his former tormentors, ends up becoming an Internet billionaire by the age of 25.
It's a rather uglifying stereotype, except for the billionaire part. But as the saying goes, a stereotype isn't a stereotype if it is not at least partially true.
It was back in the 1980s when Chinese-Americans first began entering elite institutions like Harvard, Princeton and Stanford in mammoth numbers that the mainstream USA realized the scope of their academic excellence.
In other words, they noticed that "Hey, Chinese kids are really smart."
Everyone from talk-show hosts to Popular Mechanics Magazine was fascinated by the supposedly new phenomenon. They tried to pinpoint its origins, bottle it, harness it, find that magical elixir that seemed to take every fresh off-the-boat Chinese immigrant and stuff his mailbox with big fat acceptance envelopes.
It seemed like every family with a last name of Wong had three sons who were top of their class at Harvard, or three model daughters with perfect moon-pie faces and GPAs in the 5.0 range.
Piano competitions became a wide swath of Asian territory, dominated by little musical prodigies with black hair and cheeky barrettes. California MATHCOUNTS state top-10 finals were inevitably dominated by 7th and 8th grade Chinese boys in bowl cuts and corduroys, scribbling answers to impossible math problems, their proud parents answering congratulations with the usual Chinese humility, "No, no, he's lazy, doesn't like to study at all, always wants to watch television, play with his friends."
Of course, watching TV and hanging out with your buddies are two entirely unacceptable pastimes in the Chinese American culture, except under certain circumstances when you're watching a documentary about Napoleon Bonaparte on the History Channel, or studying for the Academic Decathlon.
And then there's the unavoidable competition.
The science test results are always succeeded by an interrogation regarding the scores of the top students in the class. Course grades are eagerly compared among anxious Chinese parents. "What about this girl," they ask. "How did she do?"
Chinese-American kids are expected to maintain up-to-date records on everyone's SAT I, SAT II, and AP grades.
An awful lot of articles have been written about the "infamous" Chinese-American overachievers. An awful lot of words have been spent denying it.
You can debate endlessly about whether these seemingly impossible expectations actually help or hurt these Chinese kids. It's probably both.
The pressure and the competition and the stereotypes are unavoidable as a Chinese American kid. It comes with the territory.
I, for one, have learned to embrace it.
No other parents are as supportive and dedicated when it comes to education as Chinese parents.
No other culture gives more chances for inside jokes and hysterical anecdotes.
And when you look at people like Jerry Yang, the founder of Yahoo, and Steve Chan, the founder of YouTube, or the legions of lawyers, scientists, doctors, and musicians, who made it alive through the gauntlet process, and who are living extraordinarily happy and successful lives, it's hard not to be convinced that maybe there's something right in Chinese-American parenting styles.
