Chinese Education

Last night as I was reading my "morning" news out of New York, I came across this piece in the New York Times Magazine. It deals with the current efforts by the Chinese state and educators to implement a more varied method of teaching in primary education. Traditionally (and by this I mean for thousands of years), Chinese students have learned by rote, with the teacher at the focal point of the classroom, limited dialogue between students or teachers and almost none of the "Question Authority" precept that I encountered in my education. Of course, this has worked just fine throughout history. Now, however, as China deals increasingly with the global marketplace, the Chinese are looking West to find out what it is about Western education that breeds innovation into its students.

On several different occasions I've had Chinese people relate woefully that "China has no Nobel Prize winners." Taking into consideration when the Nobel Prize was first awarded (1901), and China's turbulent political and social history since then, it isn't terribly surprising that they haven't had time--or often, the opportunity--to build a better mousetrap. If they'd been awarding prizes for innovation several centuries ago, I'm sure the Chinese would've taken home a sackful. Nonetheless, China and the Chinese remain obsessive about attaining this intellectual symbol of advancement--and a further symbol of its inclusion in the global community--for its country. The first Nobel Prize winner will undoubtedly become an instant national hero.

In their quest to produce a class of scholars and professionals that are innovators rather than imitators, the Chinese are trying all kinds of new things, as you can read about in the NYT article. Most of these efforts are focused on the wealthier and more developed East--all the places you've heard of in China, from Shanghai up to Beijing. My job as a PCV is to try and bring Western methodologies and attitudes about learning to teachers and students in the Southwest. As the students in the NYT piece comment, it is the kids in the rural and western areas of China that have it the worst--most crowded classrooms, least well-trained teachers, all of which translates to lower scores on the gao kao, the college entrance exam. And the chain reaction continues: lower gao kao scores mean diminished chances of getting into a good college (if you make it at all), and then into the major you'd like. Most of my students wanted to be doctors, but they weren't quite "doctor" material and instead have been shunted into the English major. They cope amazingly well with this dispiriting move, however. Their sense of the import of any college degree is acute. Good schools then are better able to place their graduates in jobs--a Chinese news outlet reports that as of 2005, only 73% of college educated students were employed. The unemployment level among this group is rising, as the number of graduates outpaces appropriate job growth. Competition is fierce at every level, and begins early.

At the center of the piece is a singular Chinese college student named Tang Meijie, currently a sophomore at Harvard University in Cambridge, MA. The name "Harvard" in China is always breathed reverently; it is the Holy Grail of education. When I first arrived, several students hopefully asked me if that was where I went to college. I had to disappoint them and say no. Ms. Tang seems to be possessed of an extraordinary vision for the future of Chinese education. Her summit in Shanghai--where Harvard students lead seminars on wide-ranging topics for qualified Chinese high school students--is an incredibly ambitious and exciting project.

As I read about it, I couldn't help thinking how much my own students would love an event like that, though certainly at a lower language level. It reminded me of my own work here, or at least the work I hope I'm doing: encouraging students to frequently step out of their regimented courses of memorization, and hopefully into a more creative and fulfilling place. If I'm doing my job right, this intangible moment will occur at least once a week. One day some my students will be teachers in their own right, and I hope they have a similar goal. Maybe they won't be the ones winning China's Nobel Prizes, but perhaps they will be a part of shaping those who do.