Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother - Amy Chua [36]
Around that time, I had a life-changing conversation with my brilliant friend and colleague Peter, who speaks six languages and reads eleven, including Sanskrit and Ancient Greek. A gifted pianist who had debuted in New York as a teenager, Peter attended one of Sophia’s recitals at the Neighborhood Music School.
Afterward, Peter told me that he thought Sophia’s playing was really extraordinary. Then he added, “I don’t want to meddle or anything, but have you thought about the Yale School of Music? Maybe Sophia should audition for one of the piano faculty there.”
“You mean . . . change teachers?” I said, my mind racing. The Neighborhood Music School had been one of my favorite places for almost a decade.
“Well, yes,” said Peter. “I’m sure the Neighborhood Music School is a wonderful place. But compared to the other kids here Sophia’s in a different league. Of course it all depends on what your goals are. Maybe you just want to keep things fun.”
This took me aback. No one had ever accused me of trying to keep things fun. And coincidentally, I’d just received a phone call from another friend raising the very same question about Lulu.
That night, I sent two crucial e-mails.The first was to a violinist and recent graduate of the Yale School of Music named Kiwon Nahm, whom I’d hired on occasion to help Lulu practice. The second was to Professor Wei-Yi Yang, the most recent addition to Yale’s illustrious piano faculty and by all accounts a piano prodigy and sensation.
Things moved faster than I expected. By a tremendous stroke of luck, Professor Yang knew of Sophia; he had heard her play a Mozart piano quartet at a fund-raiser and been favorably impressed. He and I agreed to meet for lunch in late August, when he returned from his summer concertizing.
Something equally exciting happened with Lulu. Kiwon—who had debuted at Lincoln Center as a soloist at the age of twelve—generously mentioned Lulu to a former teacher named Almita Vamos. Mrs. Vamos and her husband, Roland, are among the leading violin instructors in the world. They’ve been honored by the White House six times. Their former students include well-known soloists like Rachel Barton and many winners of prestigious international competitions. Based in Chicago, they teach only very gifted students, a large proportion of them Asian.
We waited on tenterhooks to see if Mrs. Vamos would respond. A week later, the e-mail came. Mrs. Vamos invited Lulu to come play for her at the Chautauqua Institution in upstate New York, where she was in residence that summer. The date Mrs. Vamos chose was July 29—only three weeks away.
For the next twenty days, Lulu did nothing but practice violin. To squeeze as much improvement out of Lulu as possible, I paid Kiwon to come twice, sometimes three times a day to work with her. When Jed saw the cashed checks, he couldn’t believe his eyes. I told him we’d make up for it by not going out to dinner all summer and not buying new clothes. “Also,” I said hopefully, “there is the advance you just got for your novel.”
“I’d better start on a sequel now,” Jed replied grimly.
“There is nothing better to spend our money on than our children,” I said.
Jed was in for another unpleasant surprise. I had imagined that the drive to see Mrs. Vamos would take three, maybe four hours, and had told Jed as much. The day before we were scheduled to leave, Jed got on MapQuest and said, “So where’s this place again?”
Unfortunately, I hadn’t realized that New York State is so big. Chautauqua turned out to be located near Lake Erie, not far from Canada.
“Amy, it’s nine hours away—not three,” Jed said in exasperation. “How long are we staying?”
“Just one night. I signed Sophia up for a computer animation course, which starts Monday—something exciting for her while she’s on crutches. But I’m sure we can make the drive in seven—”
“What are we supposed to do with