Today I’m going to tell you how a single-child family raises better kids. I mean, look at me. I’m perfect.
No, I’m just kidding, although it is said that being the only child in a family can make one quite the narcissist.
I don’t know if that’s necessarily true; I am unfamiliar with any scientific or psychological research saying whether or not it benefits a child to raise him or her as the one and only in the family. The only thing I could say for sure, and would like to share with you, is how I feel growing up as the single child in the family.
It’s a lot of pressure, for sure. I’m not exactly familiar with the situation here in most American families, but I do watch a lot of television. From what I’ve seen, there seems to be, most of the time, three roles played by the kids in the family.
There is always a pretty one, who is popular with everyone all the time in school.
Then, there is a smart one, who is always popular with teachers and with the cool kids only when it comes to tests and homework.
Finally, there is a sweet one, who doesn’t really excel in anything but is always the apple of mom’s eye.
Imagine trying to play all three roles by yourself — that’s the kind of pressure I’m talking about.
Part of the high pressure on kids comes from the fact that the large population in China has made it quite competitive in pretty much any field (even in those where you only earn 31 cents per hour, and yes, I’m talking about you Foxconn).
The other part comes, I think, from the fact that most families just have one child, and that’s where parents place their hopes or whatever dreams that they themselves never manage to realize.
As for me, my childhood wasn’t all that sweet. Like all parents, mine were quite supportive of my finding my interest. But it’s not all about fun, at least not in my family. After spending a lot of money and time going through dancing classes, painting classes and writing classes (and quitting them) my mom said, “That’s it!”
She gave me an ultimatum to make up my mind and stick to my decision. (I know. Tiger mom, right?)
I ended up struggling for eight years with the violin. Sure, it was my decision, and I really did enjoy it most of the time. But it became “struggling” when I had to spend every Friday night with my violin teacher, who was so intimidating and mean that the 20-minute ride from my home to her place every week was my worst nightmare.
As a matter of fact, getting yelled at was not half as bad as pondering how she was going to torture me while looking at the reflection of my house in the side mirror getting smaller and smaller.
And then there were the times when my mom wouldn’t let me go to my friend’s birthday party no matter how hard I begged. To cope, I chose really sad songs to play and cried, feeling like a great emotional artist whose mom wouldn’t let her be cool.
So yeah, those beautiful old days.
But it’s not all bad. It can’t be, since I’m already here, in a good school, doing great.
So I guess I’m really awesome.
And no, it’s not narcissism when it is the truth.
Bixi Tian is a graduate student studying journalism and a columnist for The Post. Are you a narcissistic only child? Let her know at bt121511@ohiou.edu.
