In the book Money, Love, and Parenting, the authors spend considerable time describing their childhoods to compare them with those of children in contemporary Western countries like the U.S. and Germany. The book’s objective is to objectively analyze why modern parents tend to engage in “intensive parenting,” unlike their more laid-back predecessors. However, what resonates with me is the description of their childhood, which brings back memories of my own, even though it’s different in many ways due to cultural differences between the East and West and the distinct developmental stages of our countries. Thirty or forty years ago, China and the U.S. were worlds apart in every aspect.

Similarities

The authors of Money, Love, and Parenting mention that during their childhood, parents spent little time on parenting. Even though most mothers were stay-at-home moms, they did not focus as much on their children as parents do today. Apart from necessary family activities like meals, children were mostly left to their own devices. Parents did not closely monitor what their children played with, who they played with, or what they were learning. This was similar to my experience growing up.

I don’t recall my parents have ever been helping with homework or spending time with us. As long as our school performance didn’t warrant a teacher’s intervention, they didn’t pay much attention. They were either busy with work or spent their free time playing cards with friends, one of the few recreational activities available then. Apart from preparing three meals a day, they hardly managed other aspects of our lives, let alone worried about which school district we were in before we were even born, as many parents do today.

On my first day of primary school at age seven, my father dropped me off about 200 meters from the school and entrusted an older student to take me the rest of the way before heading to work. My school was a 20-minute walk from home, and regardless of the weather, I walked alone. Not all parents were like mine; I remember envying classmates who had someone bring them an umbrella when it rained.

By the time I was in the upper grades of primary school, my parents didn’t even wake up to make us breakfast. As the older sister, it was my responsibility to wake up on time, wake my brother, prepare breakfast, and walk him to school. After school, I often played with friends on the way home, and my parents didn’t worry much unless I was very late, like past four or five in the afternoon. When I started middle school, our family moved far from the school, and I had to cycle for half an hour to get there, even in winter when my hands and feet were numb from the cold. Sickness went largely unnoticed; for common colds or fevers, I often biked to school and attended classes as usual.

We had extracurricular activities, though they were rare compared to today. I took a Chinese painting class, considered a “luxury” at the time. As for play, we had many games but no electronic toys. Most toys, like beanbags, marbles, and jump ropes, were simple and often handmade. Playing requires the company of friends, unlike today’s children who can play alone on gaming consoles.

Moreover, regarding the separation of social classes, China’s situation back then was quite similar to what the authors of Love, Money & Parenting described for Europe several decades ago. In both cases, there was little of the stark class disparity we see today. In the early years of socialist China, following the Cultural Revolution and the initial redistribution of social assets by the new government, people’s living standards were relatively uniform.

At that time, China’s ideology was to “let the working class be the masters of the country,” which accorded significant respect to blue-collar workers. Office workers, or “white-collar” employees (although the term wasn’t fully applicable then), were considered lower in status. Meanwhile, former wealthy classes such as merchants and landlords were viewed as “evil.” For instance, when my father chose to work at a university instead of joining a factory, our relatives thought he had made a poor decision. However, decades later, it turned out that he had made the right choice, as education became one of China’s most crucial industries. During those times, people seldom envied the wealthy or perceived significant social class disparities.

Differences

There were many differences as well. For instance, in our parents’ era, almost no mothers were stay-at-home moms. China’s society had just begun its reform and opening-up phase, resources were scarce, and families needed both parents to work to make ends meet. Dual-income families were the norm. As a socialist country, China promoted the idea that “labor is glorious”—whether this was a genuine belief or a necessity to support the economy, not working was seen as shameful. In this respect, there was no gender discrimination in terms of the expectation to work, although income disparities between genders were inevitable.

We didn’t have family businesses or farms to inherit because early socialist China had no private enterprises or assets. However, in the generation just before mine, some did inherit their parents’ jobs in state-owned enterprises. By the time I graduated from university, no guaranteed jobs were waiting for us as our senior shoolmate who were assigned a job once they were granduated; we had to find job our own way.

When we were children, our parents rarely made decisions for our day to day lives due to their neglect and busy schedules. But for significant decisions, like choosing a university major or which college to accept, most parents would make the decision for their children. This hasn’t changed much today. Back then, the prevailing belief was to “master math, physics, and chemistry, and you’ll excel anywhere,” so capable children were encouraged to study science and engineering. Even though I was stronger in humanities, I ended up majoring in computer science because it was deemed the right choice. This seems incredible to me now, but I don’t regret studying a technical field. The knowledge I gained has benefited me, and transitioning from science to humanities is easier than the reverse.。

One notable difference mentioned in Money, Love, and Parenting is that, in 70’th Germany, academically poor students were considered “cool,” unlike in China where poor students were never regarded as “good kids.” Since ancient times, Chinese society has revered academic success with the belief that “all trades are inferior, only learning is superior.” This value is so deeply ingrained that it continues to be passed down through generations, contributing to the stereotype of Chinese people excelling in academics, a fact often remarked upon by my European and Canadian colleagues today.

Whether our childhoods are similar or different, according to the authors of Money, Love, and Parenting, these experiences have little bearing on how we educate and treat the next generation. While traditional culture influences parenting, contemporary social realities and economic conditions play a more significant role. Personally, I hope my children can have a happy childhood, learning what they love and doing what brings them joy, growing up to pursue what they are both passionate about and good at. Although this might seem like a straightforward wish, it’s considered quite radical in modern China. But, as I often say, I’m not a traditional Chinese person, nor am I a conventional Chinese mother. You might find evidence of this in many of my previous articles.