Free Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua

“How long is it?”
    “The cadenza?” said Mr. Shugart. “Oh, very long. About a page.”
    “I think I can do it,” Lulu said. She had a lot of confidence, and, as long as it wasn’t me forcing it on her, she loved a challenge.
    We plunged into the Viotti, and the battles escalated. “Calm down, Mommy,” Lulu would say maddeningly. “You’re starting to get hysterical and breathe all funny again. We still have a month to practice.” All I could think of was the work ahead of us. Although relatively simple, the Viotti concerto was a big step up from what Lulu was used to. The cadenza was filled with rapid string crossings as well as “double stops” and “triple stops”—notes played simultaneously on two or three different strings, the equivalent of chords on the piano—which were difficult to play in tune.
    I wanted the cadenza to be good. It became a kind of obsession for me. The rest of the Viotti was okay—parts of it were a bit pedantic—but Mr. Shugart was right: The cadenza made the whole piece worthwhile. And about a week before the recital, I realized that Lulu’s cadenza had the potential to be spectacular. She made its melodic parts sing out exquisitely; somehow that was intuitive for her. But not nearly so good were the sections that required technical precision—in particular, a series of double-stop-string-crossing zingers near the end. During practice, it was always hit or miss with those passages. If Lulu was in a good mood and concentrating, she could nail them. If she was in a bad or distracted mood, the cadenza fell flat. The worst thing was that I had no control over which mood it would be.
    Then I had an epiphany. “Lulu,” I said, “I have a deal to propose.”
    “Oh no, not again,” Lulu groaned.
    “This is a good one, Lulu.You’ll like it.”
    “What—practice two hours, and I won’t have to set the table? No thanks, Mommy.”
    “Lulu, just listen for a second. If you play the cadenza really well next Saturday—better than you’ve ever played it—I’ll give you something you won’t believe, something that I know you will love .”
    Lulu looked scornful. “You mean like a cookie? Or five minutes on a computer game?”
    I shook my head. “Something so amazing even you won’t be able to resist.”
    “A playdate?”
    I shook my head.
    “Chocolate?”
    I shook my head again, and it was my turn to be scornful. “You think that I think you can’t resist chocolate ? I know you a little better than that, Lulu. I have in mind something you’ll never EVER guess.”
    And I was right. She never guessed, perhaps because it was so wildly out of the realm of possibility given the available facts.
    In the end, I told her. “It’s a pet. A dog. If you give me a great cadenza next Saturday, I’ll get us a dog.”
    For the first time in her life, Lulu was dumbstruck. “A . . . dog?” she repeated. “A live one?” she added suspiciously.
    “Yes. A puppy.You and Sophia can decide what kind.”
    And that’s how I outsmarted myself, changing our lives forever.

Part Two
     

     
    Tigers are always tense and like to be in a hurry. They are very confident, perhaps too confident sometimes. They like being obeyed and not the other way around. Suitable careers for Tigers include advertising agent, office manager, travel agent, actor, writer, pilot, flight attendant, musician, comedian, and chauffeur.
     

13
     

     
    Coco
     
    Coco is our dog, my first pet ever. She’s not Jed’s first pet. He had a mutt called Frisky when he was a boy. Frisky, who barked a lot, was abducted and put to death by evil neighbors while Jed’s family was on vacation. At least that’s what Jed has always suspected. It’s possible that Frisky just got lost, and was picked up by a loving Washington, D.C., family.
    Technically, Coco was not Sophia and Lulu’s first pet either. We had an earlier ordeal that was thankfully short-lived. When the girls were very young, Jed got them a pair of pet