Surviving the Tiger

I remember when I told my father that I got a B on my chemistry exam:

“How are you so far away from an A?"

“Why didn’t you study harder?”

“How do you think you are going to get into college with a B?”

He never considered that the teacher sucks at her job, we were limited to less than 30 minutes, and a B was still higher than the class average. Or how I would lock myself in my room after school for hours, just to do my homework and study.

I could no longer use the same old excuse of “I don’t understand what the teachers are saying since English isn’t my native language,” because I’ve been in this country for so long now that I don’t even buy the excuse myself.

Afterwards, I never told him my grades unless I knew they met his expectations. Even then, he’d always tell me to not get a big head, since there were always other kids who were better than me.

In his eyes, his children were never enough Not smart enough Not hard working enough. Not good enough.

He always said, “I don’t expect you to be the valedictorian of your class. The least you can do is to not disappoint me with your grades. When I was your age, I was doing hard labor in rough environments back in our rural village in Asia Do you know how many of your cousins want to be in your shoes right now?"

drawn by Yuko Shimizu

"If you stayed there, you would have never even made it to college because the competition over there is more than someone of your typical intellectual level could handle.”

I became more introverted and insecure, compared to my childhood days when I wasn't living with my dad. He would always find time to bash what I am doing if I was not staring into a book or doing schoolwork. When I managed to accomplish something that was “expected” of me, he would somehow turn it into a pep talk about how other people could do it better or faster. No matter how hard I may try, I knew I would never satisfy him.

I’m not a genius, like some of those kids constantly brought up by family friends. Those “perfect kids,” who all happen to be valedictorians, 4.0 pre meds, engineers who have companies lining up to them, or girls who get good grades and can cook and clean for their families. In fact, I don’t even know nor care about them, but I’m already sick of being compared to them all the time.

And in a vicious cycle, my accomplishments will be spread in his social circle of other Asian parents.

To think that all of my hard work will turn into scars for the next generation of kids disgusts me. The last thing I want to be is “that kid,” who they will be ruthlessly compared to. In a way, it feels like Asian children are treated as trophies to be displayed and compared with each other

But every night, I watch both of my parents go to work early in the morning and return late at night, exhausted. And gradually, I understand why.

Coming into a foreign country with little money and a language barrier, it can change a person. The first generation gets hit the hardest, and they believe education can break the cycle, especially in America the land of “freedom and opportunity.” However, they tend to be blinded by this mindset that they never realize how much pressure they are putting onto their children As a part of the 15 generation of immigrants who came to America during childhood, I understand why they made these decisions. At the same time, however, I know to never follow in their footsteps.