Yu has a seventh-grade daughter, Yun-ju, and a fifth-grade son, Yen-lun. Tall and slender Yun-ju has grown into a pretty girl with all the bashful reticence of a girl her age. Stocky little Yen-lun is lively and outgoing, and quite pleasant to everyone. Everyone who sees them asks Yu: "How did you manage to bring them both up so well?"

Becoming a "full-time father" was not Yu's original intention, but sometimes hard knocks can open the door to happiness. Yu used to hold down multiple jobs that kept him racing every day between the hospital, television station, radio station, and newspaper. For years he woke up brutally early to do radio and TV shows, stumbling home dead beat well after sundown. He developed a gastrointestinal problem that often left him doubled over in pain without any advance warning. Adding to the misery were chronic allergies that plagued him with a permanently stuffy nose, robbing him of sleep.

Then one day he remembered what Li Yu wrote in Young at Heart: "To become old at heart is to lose your real heart. To lose your real heart is to lose your real self." Yu began to wonder: "Have I lost sight of my real self?"

The question prompted him eight years ago to quit his jobs and stay at home. He decided to build his family around love, to take time out, and to live as if life mattered. It's turned out to be a good move for his daughter and son, who have grown up with both parents at their side, free of the after-school centers and lessons that so many success-conscious parents push on their kids.

Putting happiness first

"I feel that happiness is absolutely the most important thing," says Yu, who often takes his children out to hike in the hills, tramp up creek beds, play sports, swim, plant flowers, watch bugs, or whatever. They have had a childhood full of laughter.

Yu feels that childhood is extremely important. It is a time for building strength and honing skills, and plays a decisive role in determining who you will eventually become. "After you enter adulthood and experience the frustration and pain it brings, the experiences of youth are the best antidote. Happy childhood memories are like a secret forest glade in the mind where you can go to recoup." Yu often takes his kids to places where they can come in contact with nature in order to build up a base of shared experience, all of which will be happy memories some day.

And there really isn't a lot of time for such things either, says Yu, because parent-child relationships in modern society are not as close as they once were. Up to age 12, children belong to their parents. After that, friends become more important. Then they get married and leave the nest entirely. Rather than spend those precious first 12 years fomenting misery by forcing kids to take after-school tutoring and lessons, and turn them into sullen, lonely strangers longing for freedom, it makes more sense to use the time sharing happiness with your kids.

"My kids and I have developed a common mission in life: to go roaming the great outdoors and doing fun things together as often as possible while they're still young enough to need me. They say that the parent-child relationship is the result of 500 years of good karma, so I sure don't want to waste it on constant nagging, criticizing, and complaining."

Letting kids have fun doesn't mean they don't have to work hard at their studies. The point is that you mustn't judge children's worth by their grades.

At the beginning of each semester, Yu sends carefully written letters to his children's teachers telling them what went on over the break, what his kids know how to do, and what they have yet to master. "The reason I do that is to let the teachers know what I consider important. I don't want them telling me my kids' test scores or class rank."

In Yu's eyes, grades are meaningless. "I tell my kids that they must do their best, but the results don't matter."

Once his daughter Yun-ju asked: "Daddy, last time I got one question wrong and scored 96%. This time I missed three and got 97%. Does that mean I made progress or not?" Yun-ju's classmates always have hell to pay at home after the tests at the end of the month. Some parents demand a score of 95, and will swat the child once for each point below the cutoff. Some kids have to finish among the top three in their class, and are made to kneel an hour for each place below that. Some kids don't get slapped by their parents, but they do get it from the teacher of their after-school cram classes. Yun-ju told her father: "I'm lucky being your daughter. I really feel sorry for my classmates. When I tell them that you never spank me or yell at me on account of test scores, they all feel real jealous."

All in good time

"Everyone wants to see their children do well, but there are different ways of making that come about. Some parents discipline their kids like soldiers, and every day is like fighting a war. Some lay out a jam-packed schedule and make sure their kids stick to it, which makes for a very mechanical existence. Some just take life easy and let kids have fun. If all three approaches are effective in one way or another, which kind of life would you prefer for your child?"

Most people would say that the first approach is too harrowing and the second too tiring. But they also question whether the third will actually yield results. This raises a question: How do you define success?

There was once a child prodigy who entered Harvard University at age 13 and graduated at 16. Speaking to reporters on graduation day, he said: "I wish I could live my life over again."

Yu notes that parents anxious to see their kids succeed typically want it to come about as soon as possible, but they forget that sometimes the most successful people don't make their mark at a young age.

Research done overseas suggests that fewer than 1% of children who rank at the top of the class in elementary school go on to achieve particularly noteworthy success. In fact, a study of world-famous people showed that almost none had ever been stellar performers academically, although they were indeed quite intelligent.

"Kids who achieve success too early generally fail later on, because people need to make steady progress," says Yu, who likens a group of children to a complex hydrological system: What you see on the surface is the creek. What you don't see are the subterranean streams; these are where the water shows its true power, eating through rock, carving out caves, and building up beautiful stalactites. "Since life is 80 years long, what's the big rush to get everything accomplished so quickly? That takes the fun out of life."

The path to success

Psychologists say that wherever your interests lie, there your success is to be achieved.

Opines Yu: "Grades don't tell us anything. It's a person's interests that lead to success." Yu has never pushed his children to take lessons in art, music, computers, sports, or anything else. He lets them decide what to do with themselves.

The walls of Yu's home are hung with championship medals won by Yen-lun at judo tournaments. Yen-lun has a green belt, but he dropped judo in favor of basketball, figuring he'd be more likely to grow tall that way. Now he's on the school basketball team.

Says Yu: "I've never looked at our children in terms of what they might do for a career. I just want to instill in them a certain attitude toward life that will stand them in good stead no matter what." Yun-ju is an avid pianist, does well with languages, and paints beautifully. And even though no one has ever taught her Chinese composition, her writing nevertheless is startlingly good. Yen-lun's interests are totally different from his sister's; he likes living things and computers, and is an excellent athlete. Yu is in no hurry to push his kids onto the path to success, but he does state with certainty: "My kids are going to do very well in life. I just don't require that they be big phenoms in junior high school."

The fundamentals

During his 15 years as a clinical psychologist Yu saw parents exercised by all sorts of worries. At the beginning of his career he focused on treating the child. Later he realized it was the parents who needed treatment, so in the end he left his practice behind altogether to engage in freewheeling talks about life with lots of parents all together. In addition, Yu has also set up a parenting website to provide a lifeline to parents feeling lost and confused.

Many parents run themselves ragged, leading a confused and irritable existence. Yu says with a sigh that for many of them, the morning routine is "wash face, brush teeth, yell at the kids," followed by an evening routine of "come home, bathe, change clothes, yell at the kids." What's the point? "It's hard to strike a balance between ambition and a child's best interests, or to find a pat solution to the challenges of parenthood," says Yu. He argues that it is essential for parents to use time more wisely and see to it that kids have a little more excitement and affection in their lives, otherwise the entire exercise of parenthood will just be a waste of time.

In raising a child, what should a parent aim to achieve? In Yu's view, our goal in raising children is certainly not to turn them into machines designed for scholastic brilliance and high-income careers. The point is to help them grow into well-rounded human beings who know how to have fun and understand what life is about. Yu's warning: "If this is not your goal, then you're raising your kids wrong."

"I wasn't born a father. I get confused about things too, but luckily I'm gradually moving into a clearer dimension." Yu continually admonishes himself: "Don't forget the fundamentals!" That's good advice for parents everywhere.

p.017

Yu Chien-kui has "a strong respect for happiness," and values the time he spends with his children. His son Yen-lun says: "I'm lucky to have a dad like him!"

p.018

"I'm sure my children will grow up to become capable people, but they won't necessarily learn their abilities in middle school!" With her father's encouragement, daughter Yun-ju brims with confidence.