老師們把我奉為天才，但我知道真相。我的非亞裔朋友沒有像我這樣花幾個小時在雪地裡跋涉，背誦乘法表。他們並沒有在黎明時分專心致志地站在那裡高聲朗讀報紙，一丁點磕絆都會受到嚴厲的訓斥。就像一個海豹突擊隊員被拋進一群青澀的應徵入伍者一樣，從記事以來，我把大部分時間都花在訓練上，就為了六歲那年入學的這一刻。
To my authoritarian father, all has gone according to plan. I excelled in school, attending Amherst College and Harvard Law School. I’ve embraced his conventional vision of success: I’m a lawyer. But like many second-generation immigrant overachievers, I’ve spent decades struggling with the paradox of my upbringing. Were the same childhood experiences that long evoked my resentment also responsible for my academic and professional achievements? And if so, was the trade-off between happiness and success worth it?
對於我那專制的父親來說，一切都是按計劃進行的。我在學校表現優異，上了阿默斯特學院(Amherst College)和哈佛法學院(Harvard Law School)。我接受了他傳統的成功願景，當上了律師。但是，像許多第二代移民中的成績優異者一樣，我花了幾十年的時間與成長中的這個悖論做鬥爭。長期令我怨恨的童年經歷是否同樣締造了我在學業和專業方面的成就？如果是這樣，用幸福交換成功的代價是否值得？
The way I and other Asian-Americans of my generation answer these questions could affect American society more broadly. My generation’s academic success has sparked a crisis of sorts in our country’s elite educational institutions. For example, despite having the highest poverty rate in New York City, Asian-Americans make up a large majority of students at the city’s premier public high schools — including 73 percent at the storied Stuyvesant — where admission is decided solely on the basis of a standardized test. Mayor Bill de Blasio has reacted by proposing to scrap the test to allow more white, black and Hispanic students to attend.
我和我這一代的其他亞裔美國人對這些問題的回答，可能會更廣泛地影響美國社會。我們這一代的學術成就，引發了我們國家的精英教育機構的種種危機。例如，儘管是紐約市貧困率最高的群體，亞裔美國人在該市首屈一指的公立高中裡佔據了多數名額，在久負盛名的史岱文森高中(Stuyvesant)，亞裔的比例佔到了73%——該中學入學完全取決於標準化測試。白思豪(Bill de Blasio)市長最近提出廢除考試，以便讓更多白人、黑人和西語裔學生入學。
Meanwhile, Harvard faces a lawsuit claiming that the university artificially caps the number of Asian students by emphasizing non-merit-based factors in admissions, in the same way it deliberately designed its admissions policies in the 1920s to limit Jewish enrollment. Harvard itself has found that its share of incoming Asian students would more than double, to nearly half the class, if it considered only academic merit in deciding whom to admit.
同時，哈佛大學面臨的一項訴訟稱，該大學通過在招生中強調非成績因素，人為限制了亞裔學生的數量，就像1920年代它故意設計招生政策以限制猶太人入學一樣。哈佛已經發現，如果在入學錄取時只考慮學術成就，那麼其亞裔學生的入學份額將增加一倍以上，接近入學人數的一半。
Efforts to adjust these imbalances may or may not be warranted, but history also suggests they may naturally abate on their own. If the children of immigrants are often preternaturally driven, a phenomenon known as “second-generation advantage,” the grandchildren of immigrants usually experience “third-generation decline.” By the third generation, families absorb American cultural values, lose the feverish immigrant zeal to succeed and cease being, in any real sense, immigrants at all.
無論調整這些不平衡的努力是否正當，歷史表明，這些不平衡可能會自然而然地減輕。移民子女往往擁有超乎尋常的動力，這種現象被稱為“第二代優勢”；而移民的孫輩們通常會經歷“第三代衰落”。第三代家庭往往會吸收美國文化價值，不再對成功抱有狂熱的移民激情，他們在各種真正的意義上已經不再是移民了。
I’ve experienced this transition myself, as I’ve started a family of my own. When I became a parent, I felt the wonder and uncertainty that accompany the awesome responsibility of fatherhood. But I was absolutely sure of one thing: The childhood I devise for my two young daughters will look nothing like mine. They will feel valued and supported. They will know home as a place of joy and fun. They will never wonder whether their father’s love is conditioned on an unblemished report card.
我自己也經歷過這種轉變，因為我建立了一個屬於自己的家庭。有了孩子之後，我感受到了與身為人父那令人敬畏的責任同來的驚奇和不確定感。但我絕對確定一件事：我為兩個小女兒設計的童年，將和我的童年完全不同。她們會感覺受到重視和支持。她們將認識到家是一個充滿歡樂和樂趣的地方。她們永遠不會懷疑父親的愛是否建立在完美無瑕的成績單上。
I’ve assumed this means my daughters might someday bring home grades or make life choices that my father would have regarded as failures. If so, I embrace the decline.
我認為這意味著，女兒們某一天帶回家的成績，或是做出的人生選擇，可能會被我的父親視為失敗。如果是這樣，我接受這種衰落。
During my constitutional law class, Akhil Amar — the only Asian-American professor I’ve ever had — asked for a show of hands: Whose parents immigrated to the United States after 1965? I joined all the other Asian students in raising my hand, along with a few white compatriots with hard-to-pronounce last names. As Mr. Amar explained, our American story was made possible by the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1965, a groundbreaking statute that washed away a century of laws, like the frankly named Chinese Exclusion Act, aimed at making sure people like us never became Americans.
在憲法課上，我唯一的亞裔美籍教授阿克爾·阿馬爾(Akhil Amar)要我們舉手示意：誰的父母是在1965年移民到美國的？我和所有其他亞洲學生一起舉起了手，還有幾位姓氏難以發音的白人同學也舉了手。正如阿馬爾解釋的那樣，我們的美國故事是由於1965年的《移民與國籍法》(Immigration and Nationality Act)才得以實現的，這是一個開創性的法規，衝破了一個世紀以來那些旨在確保像我們這樣的人永遠不能成為美國人的法律——例如有著直白名稱的《排華法案》(Chinese Exclusion Act) 。
In the decades that followed, a large wave of Asian immigrants arrived in the United States. Like my parents, many of these new arrivals brought two cultural values that would carry their children far: a near-religious devotion to education as the key to social mobility and a belief that academic achievement depends mostly on effort rather than inborn ability. Many (though certainly not all, and probably less than half) also came armed with the belief that the best way to instill these values is through harsh methods that other Americans can regard as cruel.
在接下來的幾十年中，大批亞裔移民抵達美國。和我的父母一樣，這些新來者中的許多人帶來了兩種文化價值觀，令他們的子女可以走得更遠：其一，對教育近乎虔誠的投入是社會流動的關鍵；其二，學術成就主要取決於努力而不是先天能力。許多人（儘管肯定不是全部，可能都不到一半）還堅信，貫徹這些價值觀的最好方式是通過被其他美國人視為殘酷的嚴苛方法。
The results have been striking. Today, Asian-Americans fill the nation’s top universities in staggering numbers, enter elite professions like medicine at incredible rates (nearly 20 percent of new doctors have Asian roots) and generally do better in school and make more money than any other demographic slice. Although overall trends mask vast diversity within our community, now 20 million strong, as a group we’ve broken the curve on standard metrics of success.
成果是很驚人的。如今，亞裔美國人進入全美頂尖大學的人數令人咋舌，並以難以置信的速度進入醫療等精英職業（近20％的新醫生有亞裔血統），而且在學校中表現更好，收入比任何其他人口都要多。儘管總體趨勢會掩蓋社區內廣泛的多樣性，但是作為一個整體，如今擁有2000多萬人口的亞裔美國人已經達到了標準意義上的成功頂點。
Because of pre-1965 immigration restrictions, the third-generation stories of most Asian-American families have yet to be written. Today, many second-generation Americans like me are at a parenting crossroads: Do we replicate the severe, controlling parenting styles many of us were raised with — methods that we often assume shaped our own success?
由於1965年以前的移民限制，大多數亞裔美國家庭的第三代故事還沒有被書寫出來。如今，許多像我這樣的第二代美國人正處在養育子女的十字路口：我們是否應該複製我們當中許多人成長期間所受到的那種嚴格管控——我們常常認為，正是那些方法令我們取得成功？
Amy Chua famously answered this question yes. In her memoir, “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother,” she explained that her fanatical parenting choices were driven by the desire to avoid “family decline.” But most second-generation Asian-Americans are not joining her. Rather, studies show that we’re largely abandoning traditional Asian parenting styles in favor of a modern, Western approach focused on developing open and warm relationships with our children.
蔡美兒對這一問題做出的肯定回答十分出名。在她的回憶錄《虎媽戰歌》(Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother)中，她解釋說，避免“家族沒落”的慾望驅使她選擇了這一極端的教育方式。但大部分二代亞裔美國人並不與她為伍。相反，研究表明，我們很大程度上正在放棄傳統的亞洲教育方式，轉而採取西方的現代方法，注重培養開放而溫暖的親子關係。
My wife is also a second-generation Asian-American overachiever (she’s a doctor, the other immigrant-parent-approved profession), and together we’re trying to instill in our daughters the same grit and reverence for learning that our upbringings gave us, but in a happy and supportive home environment. (In this effort, we’ve followed the example of her parents, whose unfailing kindness is also common among Asian immigrants, proving it’s possible to have it both ways.) We’ve also adopted the relationship-driven mind-set common among young parents today but not among most immigrant parents, who emphasize discipline. For example, before my oldest daughter was on an early-morning school schedule, I freely indulged her disregard for bedtime on a condition: The night was firmly earmarked for learning. We’d sometimes stay up past midnight, lying on our stomachs with feet in the air, huddled over a dry-erase board and a bowl of popcorn, practicing phonics or learning about sea creatures. My own father, by contrast, strictly policed bedtime, angrily shutting down my attempts to hide under the sheets with a book and a flashlight.
我的妻子也是二代美籍亞裔之中的卓越者之一（她是一名醫生，這是受移民家長認可的另一職業），而我們也在共同努力向女兒灌輸曾經培養了我們的教育方式所賦予我們的同一種毅力和敬畏，只不過是在一個快樂而鼓勵的家庭環境中。（為此，我們遵循了她父母的例子，他們一貫的慈愛在亞裔移民中也很常見，這證明了兩種方式都有可能實現。）我們還採取了當今在年輕父母中常見的關係驅動型思維，這在大多數強調紀律的移民父母中並不常見。比如，在我大女兒開始早起的上學作息之前，我會在一定條件下縱容她，任她不理會睡覺時間：只要這個晚上是用來學習的就行。我們有時會熬夜到半夜，趴在床上，腳翹在空中，擠在一塊擦寫板和一碗爆米花前練習拼讀法，或是學習海洋生物。相比之下，我的父親則會嚴格管控睡覺時間，會憤怒地打破我拿著書和手電筒藏在被單下的企圖。
Studies on second-generation parenting also show that many of us are striving to cultivate individuality and autonomy in our children in a way that we feel was missing from our own childhoods. As the respondent in one study explained: “As a young adult I really struggled with what I wanted to do. I was always told that I would be a doctor and so I never had a chance to really look outside of that and if I did, it wasn’t nurtured at all.” With her own children, she said, “we try to expose them to everything under the sun and then home in on the things that excite them, what they like.”
同時，對二代移民的教育反映出，我們中有許多人正在努力培養孩子的個性和自主，某種程度上是感到了自己童年的缺失。正如某研究受訪者的解釋：“青年的我十分糾結於自己想做什麼。我聽到的總是我將成為一名醫生，因此我從未有機會真正看看此外的可能，即使我看了，也並未得到培養。”對於自己的孩子，她說，“我們在嘗試向他們展示他們所能看到的一切，留意可以引起他們興趣的東西，他們喜歡的東西。”
The traditional Asian parenting model is, in theory at least, premised on imposing pain now to reap meritocratic rewards later. For much of my life, I accepted this premise and assumed there must be a trade-off between inculcating academic success and happiness. But as I’ve learned since becoming a parent, the research shows that children tend to do best, across the board, when parents command loving respect, not fearful obedience — when they are both strict and supportive, directive and kindhearted. By contrast, children subjected to hostile “tiger” parenting methods are more likely to be depressed, anxious and insecure. And while many tiger cubs run the gantlet and emerge as academic gladiators, on average, children subjected to high-pressure parenting actually tend to do worse in school. In short, a firm hand works best when paired with a warm embrace. This is the approach I’ve tried to take with my daughters.
至少在理論上，傳統的亞洲教育模式是以現在的痛苦為前提，換來日後的精英地位。我一生之中的大部分時間都在接受這樣一種前提，並認為一定要在灌輸式的學術成功和幸福之間權衡取捨。但在我成為父母之後我瞭解到，這項研究表明，當父母要求一種帶有愛的尊重，而非膽怯的順從——當他們既嚴格，又有支持、指導和仁愛時，孩子們普遍會有最好表現。相比之下，受到充滿敵意的“虎式”教育的孩子更有可能抑鬱、焦慮、沒安全感。雖然許多小虎崽在挑戰之中能成長為一個學業角鬥士，但普遍來說，受到高壓教育的孩子事實上在學校表現更差。總而言之，強硬的手法最好與溫暖的擁抱結合。這便是我在女兒身上所嘗試的方法。
Like all parents, however, my failures stack up alongside my successes. And I know that the decision to abandon immigrant parenting principles could backfire. The striving immigrant mind-set, however severe, can produce results. Every time I snuggle my daughters as they back away from a challenge — when my own father would have screamed and spit and spanked until I prevailed — I wonder if I’m failing them in a very different way than he did me.
但是，像全天下的父母一樣，我的失敗也與成功並行。我知道，放棄移民的教育原則可能也會事與願違。競爭性的移民思維，不論如何苛嚴，都會有所成效。每次，當我與迴避了某個挑戰的女兒依偎在一起時——我的父親在這種時候則會喊叫、怒罵、打我的屁股，直到我戰勝困難——我會想，我是否正在以一種與父親迥然不同的方式辜負自己的孩子。
But I’m temperamentally unable to mimic my father’s succeed-at-all-costs immigrant mind-set, an instinct I share with most of my generation. And maybe that marks our immigrant parents’ ultimate triumph: We have become American. As part of the American parenting mainstream, I aim to raise children who are happy, confident and kind — and not necessarily as driven, dutiful and successful as the model Asian child. If that means the next generation will have fewer virtuoso violinists and neurosurgeons, well, I still embrace the decline.
但我生性無法模仿父親“不惜一切代價成功”的移民思維，這也是我們這一代人大多都擁有的天性。這或許正標誌著我們移民父母的終極勝利：我們成了美國人。正如美國教育方式的一種主流，我的目標是培養出快樂、自信和善良的孩子——而並非一定要像模範亞裔兒童那樣發奮、勤勉而成功。哪怕這意味著我們的下一代中將不會有那麼多技藝超群的小提琴家或神經外科醫生，我依然欣然接受這樣的沒落。
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