With my fingers crossed, I click on the link to check my grades. I close my eyes and say a quick prayer. Please be good. Please be all A's. My heart pounds and skips beats, but the rational part of my mind knows there's no reason to stress out. There's no reason why my grades shouldn't be stellar.

Such confidence is a trend among many of my high-achieving friends, most of whom also happen to be Chinese. It's true that I often talk about how I will fail this test, that test, school, and life in general. But beneath the surface insecurity lies a solid core of confidence that propels me to be the best. What's my secret? The answer is my pushy, ambitious, controlling Chinese tiger mom.

Amy Chua, the author of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and a self-proclaimed “Tiger Mom,” is an accomplished parent. Her daughters are both musical prodigies, partly due to natural talent but mostly just hard work and perseverance. As Chua says in her book, “What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it.” Sophie Chua, the elder daughter, performed at Carnegie Hall when she was 14. How many 14-year-olds can boast that? The surge of pride she must have felt as she took her bow in that famed hall after her flawless performance must have been nauseatingly satisfying. But to be good at anything requires practice and dedication; that's the part that's not fun. Sophie spent countless hours practicing piano to reach Carnegie Hall.

In my exercises of practice and dedication, I have spent countless hours at math and chemistry lessons and other enrichment courses outside of school. The distress I suffered on car rides to each of these classes is still clear in my memory. I can't count how many times I wished that I had “normal” parents (like my American friends) who would be ecstatic if I came home with a B+. Due to these extra classes, I had to miss dances and parties. For a teenager, that is social suicide. But academics always comes first, and sometimes second and third too; that has been drilled into my head since babyhood.

The Chinese model of parenting isn't meant to breed idle happiness. It's not meant to create a nurturing environment in which a child has freedom to explore his or her individuality and passions. The child is introduced to the realities of life from the very beginning: It is a mean, competitive world out there; it's survival of the fittest. When my mother heard homework, she took it to mean homework. Sometimes I wonder if I learned more outside of school than in; I had to, so I could stay ahead. A timeline of my summers and holidays can be traced through enrichment workbooks ranging from reading comprehension to paleontology.

But, of course, I was not always so compliant with my mother's strict parenting. We had many fights that always seem to be on the edge of causing World War III, but at the end of the day, everything turned out fine. The conflicts only made both of us stronger and wiser.

Is it all worth it? Well, I'm taking chemistry this year, which is unusual for a freshman. My need to prove myself, to prove that my test results weren't a fluke, to prove that I belong in an advanced class, were so great that I initially dreaded the class, imagining everyone would think I was just a stupid freshman who lucked out. But as the lectures and labs rolled by, days turned into weeks, and I realized that it really wasn't that bad. I actually knew what was going on, not just because I'm a quick learner, but the Friday night chemistry class that had caused me to miss parties had prepped me very well. I had already learned most of the concepts, so I aced tests and labs and even completed the extra projects that would allow me to pursue honors in chemistry. I found myself ahead of classmates, who were all sophomores.

The pride and satisfaction I gained from being at the top surpassed my grief at being forced to attend extra classes. Like Sophie, when I finally tasted the rewards of my efforts, it erased the pain. I remember how much I had wanted to quit these classes, but my tiger mom made me stick with them. That didn't make her my favorite person at the time, but she knew that my future happiness would be more important than fleeting present happiness.

My mother overrode my preferences, just like Amy Chua. “To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences.” Living under such a policy is never pleasant, but as a survivor, I can say it works.

The best thing my tiger mother has given me is not pride, satisfaction, or academic excellence; certainly I have achieved those. The best thing she instilled in me is the desire to survive and win. She taught me not to fear adversity or obstacles; I should instead welcome challenges because they will make me stronger and better prepared for the next obstacle. I learned that there is nothing in this world that can't be accomplished with hard work and determination.

Although I don't go around saying it, I really like who I am. I'm proud of all I have accomplished and I am certain that one day I will do great things. If I decide to have children, I will raise them in this tiger mom style. Sure, it may be strict and bordering on abusive, but the result is usually worth the frustration and tears. If my child turns out to be like me, then I will feel satisfied and confident that I have prepared my child to be a strong force in the competitive world.

The webpage with my grades finishes loading, and I smile. My favorite letter is aligned down the row of my classes: A. Thank you, tiger mom, thank you for being strong enough to push me, patient enough to stand by me, ambitious enough to believe in me, and loving enough to be there through everything.