Co-authors: Liangyu Pang & Yi Luo
The warm spring has come, and as I walk through the campus, I suddenly notice the colorful flowers blooming everywhere. A poem suddenly comes to mind, “Suddenly I came upon a peach blossom forest.” “Peach Blossom Garden” is a sacred place that has been passed down in Chinese literature for 1,600 years, a utopia that everyone wish to go to. The plants grow well, and people are happy. When the author Tao Yuanming wrote this article, everyone in his world longed for a happy and peaceful life. In times of war and chaos, people would escape to the peach blossom source to live in seclusion. Although life was peaceful, they were trapped in this isolated world and cut off from the outside world, to the extent that they “knew nothing of the Han, nor did they care about Wei and Jin”. The “Peach Blossom Source (Han, Wei, Jin are dynasties in Chinese history)” is just like the “Garden of Eden” in the Bible. When people are immersed in this brief and beautiful environment, their thoughts become constrained, to the point that they cannot leave this town. The history of the Qing Dynasty being oppressed by foreign powers constantly warns people of the dangers of being isolated. In the following centuries, the openness and popularization of education demonstrated the country’s determination not to fall behind the other countries, but significant progress is always accompanied by obstacles.
In the movie “The Big Short,” there is a Chinese character who is described as “Chinese Mathematical Olympiad champion” and “doesn’t speak English” to increase the authority of his mathematical results. It seems that being good at math has become a label for Chinese people. Being good at math is not a bad thing, and in addition, it makes learning science easier and more efficient. Before coming to the United States, I had already heard about this stereotype. I didn’t hate this stereotype, and in fact, in my first semester, I chose an FYS course and it was about math. But after reading some articles, I found that people’s stereotype is not only about being good at math, but in many ways, these evaluations may be offensive. In many movies, people who are good at math and other STEM disciplines are often described as “nerds,” “people who only study,” and “freaks.” In many people’s minds, Chinese people are like computers. They are mastering calculations, but they are not good at design and creation.
As an international student who has come across the sea to study, I am deeply conflicted. On the one hand, I always want to disabuse these stereotypes, but on the other hand, some facts prevent me from speaking out. Looking back at myself, I cannot say that I am good at math, but I am only familiar with math. I want to communicate, but I am also silent because of my poor English expression. It seems that I have become a sinner who deepens stereotypes rather than a hero who breaks them. Thinking back to my educational experience, I dealt with various subjects in school and struggled with homework late at night after class in middle school. In high school, I attended the international department of a high school, watching my fellows prepare for the college entrance exam six days a week. It didn’t seem strange that they were good at studying and not good at expressing themselves.
Then, I left China, went to university to study both ancient and modern subjects, and to explore both Chinese and foreign cultures. While feeling grateful for the progress of education in China, I gradually became aware of its shortcomings. The intensity of education competition can be seen from the brutal expansion of tutoring classes and the rush of people to settle down in big cities to access better education. In this fierce competition, everyone has been more or less instilled with the idea that academic achievements are everything, which has led to a high degree of similarity among Chinese students.
Resources are limited, and education is like a door between urban and rural areas in China. One side of people hopes to open the door while the other side tightly holds it. The difficulty of reform can be seen from the problem of “opening the door” in education. However, this door will not be closed forever and will gradually open with the progress of society.
The inequality in Chinese society is like a siege. Those people inside wanting to go out and those outside wanting to go in. In some places, family background can somehow lower the requirement of academic achievement, as seen in the household registration policy. Every year in China, many children from indigent areas go to the urban cities through exams, but this is not an easy task, and it takes a lot of effort to overcome resource inequalities. Taking Tsinghua University and Peking University as examples, these two universities have lower admission scores for Beijing students, while children from other regions must work much harder to catch up with them with higher scores. For children from remote poor areas, the only way to change their lives is through hard study and leaving the so-called “poor mountains and bad waters.” The discussions on the “small-town test takers” on the Chinese internet are a description of this social phenomenon. For these hard-working students, the increasing social attention also represents that their situation is known to more people.
Although opportunities for compulsory education are universal, and everyone, regardless of wealth, has the chance to go to school and change their lives, it does not mean that compulsory education is suitable for every student. Everyone is put into an arena, and regardless of whether they are skilled in fighting, everyone is required to compete on the subjects tested in the college entrance examination. Those from wealthy families and with a strong interest in learning go to prestigious schools to ensure they have more probability of admission to good universities. Students from poor backgrounds and with no interest in school courses go to ordinary schools and go with the flow, and their chances of entering higher education institutions are relatively lower due to their limited educational resources. After higher education, people are assigned different treatment based on social needs and their own knowledge, which further solidifies class divisions. As an outsider living in Beijing, I am naturally separated from the Beijing natives. I can only slowly change my own path, find a different direction, and find my own place. Under the pressure of educational inequality, we can only change slowly. In recent years, the crackdown on tutoring classes has also shown the country’s resistance to educational inequality.
I believe that in the future, with the development of thought and economy, Chinese students, regardless of wealth, will be able to break free from all stereotypes and live the ways they want, instead of fighting in this narrow path to higher education.
[Chinese]
从”桃花源”到”伊甸园”
又是一年春暖花开，踱步在校园里的我暮然间发现各色各样朵朵盛开的花。环绕在我脑海中的一篇诗文突然迸发，“忽逢桃花林”。“桃花园”正是中国从一千六百年前传下来的一篇古文中描述的传祺圣地，一片令所有人都向往的极乐净土。其间土壤肥沃，人们生活幸福，心向神往。当作者陶渊明写出这篇文章的时候，当世的所有人都向往于其幸福，安详的生活。在战乱年代这些人们逃入桃花源避世隐居，虽然生活美满，但却也禁锢于这片世隔绝的天地，也使得他们“不知有汉，无论魏晋”。这篇文章中提及的“桃源”就正如圣经中的“伊甸园”一样，当人们沉浸在这短暂的美好环境当中，他们的思想就会开始受到禁锢，以至于离不开这片温柔乡。清朝被列强的欺凌的历史不断地警示着人们安于一隅的危害，在后来的百年里，教育的开放与普及在展现出了国家不愿落后与人的决心，然而长足的进步总会伴随着一些阻碍。
在电影《大空头》中，有一个中国角色，他被冠以“中国数学竞赛冠军”，“不会说英文”来增加其算数结果的权威性。似乎不善言辞，但是擅长数学成为了中国人身上的标签。擅长数学本不是什么坏事，甚至在一定程度上来说这让对科学的学习更加的轻松和高效。在来到美国之前，我就早对这一刻板印象有所耳闻。本身我并不讨厌这一刻板印象，并且在第一学期，我选择的FYS也正是有关数学的。但是在看过一些文章后，我发现人们对于这一印象不仅只是关于擅长数学这一方面，在很多方面，这些评价也许是攻击性的。很多电影里，擅长数学和别的STEM学科的人总是被形容为“书呆子”，“只会学习的人”，以及“怪胎”。在很多人的脑海里，中国人像是计算机，在计算方面出色，却也在设计创造方面显得不足。
作为一个飘扬过海来学习的留学生，心中无比纠结，一方面，我总是想澄清一下这些刻板印象，但在另一方面，一些事实却又将我的话堵在口中无法说出。反观自己，不能说擅长数学，却也只对数学这门学科最为熟悉，想要沟通，却也因为英文表达的不足而沉默不语。似乎我也成为了加深刻板印象的罪人，而不是一脚踢碎刻板印象的英雄。回想起自己的教育经历，初中在学校里和各科试卷打交道，下了课也难逃作业的困扰。高中于一所普通高中的国际部就读，看身边备战高考的同学，一周七天六天高强度学习，似乎他们的学习好也并不是什么奇怪的事，他们不善表达，也就稀松平常了。
到后来离开了那片熟悉的热土，在大学之中读古今，看中外，在感慨与感激中国教育的进步同时，也逐渐意识到了其中的不足之处。从补习班的野蛮扩张，到挤破头皮落户，教育竞争的激烈程度可见一斑。在激烈教育竞争中，所有人都被或多或少地灌输了学校成绩至上的理念，这导致了大部分中国学生高度相似。
资源终归是有限的，教育就像中国城乡之间的一扇门，一边的人期待打开另一边的门，而另一边的人则紧紧握住门把手。改革的困难，从教育的“门户开放”问题可见一斑。但这扇门不会永远关闭，只会随着社会的进步逐渐开放。
中国社会的不平等就像一场围城，里面的人想出来，外面的人想进去。在其他一些地方，你不仅需要成绩，还需要家庭背景。户籍政策正是如此。每年在中国，许多贫困山区的孩子都会通过考试走出山区。但这并不是一件容易的事情，其间要付出很大的代价来克服资源的不平等。以清华大学和北京大学为例，这两所学校对北京学生的录取分数要求都较低，而其他地区的孩子必须要花很多努力，以更高的分数赶上他们。对于偏远的山区，孩子们唯有苦读才能改变他们的人生，离开所谓的穷山恶水。中国互联网上对“小镇做题家”的讨论就是对这一社会现象的描述。对于这些寒窗苦读的学子，越来越多的社会关注也代表着他们的处境被更多人所知。
虽然义务教育的机会是普遍的，每个人无论贫富都可以上学，都拥有改变人生的机会，但这并不意味着义务教育对于每个学子都是合适的，所有人都被放进了一个竞技场，无论你是否精于战斗，所有人都被要求在高考要求的几门课上全力拼搏。那些家庭条件好，学习上进的人会去重点学校，以确保他们将来能考上好大学。家庭背景不好，对学校课程毫无兴趣的学生则进入普通学校，随波逐流，并且因为他们的教育资源相对贫乏，进入高等学府的机会也相对更少。在高等教育后，人们根据社会需求和自身学识被赋予不同的待遇，从而进一步固化了阶级。而我，作为居于北京的外地人口，自然被迫分离出北京的纵队。为此我只能慢慢改变自己的道路，找到不同的方向，找到自己的位置。在这种教育不平等的高压下，我们只能慢慢改变。近些年对于补习班的打击，也让人们看到了国家对于教育不平等的抵制。
相信在未来，随着思想与经济的发展，中国学子，不论贫富，终能摆脱一切刻板印象，活出自己想要的人生，而不是在这条通往高等教育小巷里，拼个头破血流，杀个你死我活。