The last time I wrote an article of this title was my first
year in China, when everything was so new and remarkable, I was writing at
least 2 articles a week. My verve hasn't slowed down any, but other things have
come to the forefront, such as: working more than I did when I first came here,
a broken leg, floods, and becoming inured to some happenings which, at first
glance do not seem inane.
Meanwhile, I've had time and now, enough knowledge of
Chinese culture – that Little C aspect, as it is known in sociology circles, to
expound on deeper mysteries of life in China. Specifically, children.
I've long admired how children seem to be the focus of life
in China. My students' driving goal is to marry and have a child. Parents play
with their children, grandparents parade them around. Grown children sometimes
live within the family fold even after university graduation or marriage. Being
a teacher – my life's work consisting of working with children, I cannot fail
to notice that, for my students, 'home' is their only focus and desire.
So, what is it that binds these children of all ages to
their home and families, and fosters the desire for nothing more than to
propagate the family line?
“Your child is your child for life.”
That is not just a prevailing attitude in China, it is a
firm belief: once you have a child, you will always have that child. That's not
so unusual: in America it is common to refer to one's last-born as one's
'baby', no matter how old that child is. Everywhere in the world, people refer
to their offspring as sons and daughters, even if such son/daughter is in their
50s or older. What makes it so unusual in China is that that progeny is treated
like a child for his/her entire life.
It is not uncommon for parents in China to cook and clean
and do the laundry for their grown children. And further: instruct them on
career and money matters – going so far as to find them suitable employment, a
suitable mate, buy them a house and maybe even a car. In short, everything
parents do in China, they do for their children.
That's actually another cultural norm.
But is that in fact the case? Let's look no further than
China's 'Left-Behind Children' phenomenon. These are children who are left in
their villages while parents go to the big city for work. By that I don't mean
some high-powered, executive job, but a position as a migrant laborer. Their
life is brutal and basic, earning little and living in extreme poverty, in
squalid conditions. Nevertheless, it is worth it to them because they send all
of their money home, for their child. They get to see their child maybe once a
year, during Spring Festival.
You might wonder why they don't simply take their child with
them when they seek work, as migrant workers do the world over. The reason for
that is China's household registration policy, called Hukou (pronounced
'who-co'). I will talk more about hukou in my next post.
What does such a parental absence mean for a left-behind
child? Probably the biggest impact is the feeling of abandonment. I see it in
my students, who have attachment issues – they are constantly fearful they will
be left behind or overlooked, thus they cling together and to anyone who will
spare them time and emotion. On the other end of that spectrum, there are
students who shun all attachments or approachments, possibly believing there is
no sense in forging bonds, only to have them inevitably broken. Trust becomes a
huge factor, with most of my students either being wary of being cheated, or
being so overwhelmingly trusting that they believe everything everyone tells
them.
One dear girl genuinely believed those fellows at the train
station when they said all they wanted to do was go home. She couldn't leave
her place in the ticket line, so she gave them her bank card and told them her
PIN. “They said they only needed 100 Yuan, and would be right back!” she
lamented to me later.
I see abandonment issues in at least 2 of my colleagues'
children. One boy was left in the village for the first 2 years of his life
and, according to his mother, the custodial
grandmother failed to bond with him, leaving him mostly to play games on
the cellphone. Now he has speech problems – the granny did not talk with him or
interact with him much. He cannot bear to be separated from his mother, and he acts out if he believes a
separation is imminent. He is unmannered, undisciplined and as angry as he can
be. Another little boy was left in the care of his father while his mother went
abroad for an admittedly excellent work opportunity. This tyke now appears to
shun all females, even those who don't look a thing like his mother – like me.
None of this is even remotely paradoxical or oxymoronic, but
the following is:
Perhaps this is only my personal definition of effective
parenting: one should work oneself out of a job as quickly as possible. Thus,
one should teach a child how to care for him/herself at the earliest
opportunities. How to prepare food, wash clothes, keep house, manage time and
relationships. How to make decisions and good choices, learning right from
wrong, and all of the other important moral teachings I believe is every
parent's duty to pass on to their child.
Except for a few, isolated cases, I see very little of that
in China. 'Helicopter parents' – ones that hover and tend to their child's
every need are the norm, here. Some kids never learn how to make a choice or
decision, judging by my students' inability to do so. One of my freshmen
assignments is for them to give a speech on their thoughts of university life.
Invariably, I will hear shock and betrayal at having to learn how to wash one's
clothes, make one's bed, and trying to figure out when to take a shower –
because there are no parents around to do it all for them or tell them what to
do.
Thus to me, it is very puzzling that, if every parent's duty
is to do for their child, wouldn't that child be better served in being taught
life skills, rather than having everything done for them until they are of such
an age that they end up in a quandary because they don't know how to do for
themselves?
Respect is high on the list of Chinese must-haves. Respect for authority, repect for one's
elders... but it seems respect goes only one way in China: up. Seldom is anyone
young in age or lower in social rank respected.
Well, that's true in just about every country, isn't it?
In China, it goes beyond respect and way into veneration,
but apparently not for youths, and not (formally) for one's child. I say that
because, at any given time, a family elder may intrude on that child's life, no
matter how old or what stage of life s/he is. I know young adults who are
resentful of parental/familial meddling, but powerless against it. Such
meddling may include the choice of mate – witholding permission to marry, for
example; where to work or where to live.
And that would be another paradox: if parents and their
extended families work so hard to raise and launch their children, why don't
they respect their child for the man/woman s/he has become? Isn't it actually
the opposite of respect to treat someone as though they were incapable of
managing their life?
Wouldn't you consider it oxymoronic to care for someone to
the point that you stifle/cripple/hobble them?
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