Filling in the Bubbles: A Re-Evaluation of Chinese Education

Photo Courtesy of http://flickr.com/photos/ajax/18451368/ Two high school students practice the waltz at a dance class in Changzhou.

The National College Entrance Examination: blessing or curse?

In China, high school students’ performance on a single standardized test is the exclusive factor in college admissions. The National College Entrance Examination (NCEE) is a standardized entrance exam that most students take right after graduating high school. There is much debate over the NCEE: Although many advocates laud the system as a relatively objective way to assess students’ academic excellence, others criticize the test for its rigidity and monotony. Students often complain that many of their other qualities—leadership, team spirit, artistic talents, or community service—have simply been neglected. Yet China’s huge population and relatively limited educational resources mean that a standardized test is the fairest and most efficient admissions protocol.

However, even those 'winners' in the admissions game who gain entry to top colleges have deep complaints about the NCEE. They may be grateful that the test entitled them to attend the universities of their dreams, but they also accuse the NCEE of “depriving them of their childhood.” Zhang Wen, a student at Peking University, referred to her primary and high school life as “12 years of drudgery”: Most of this straight-A student’s weekends and vacations were devoted to learning by rote and doing similar exercises for thousands of times, which she believes stifled her creativity. She even attended night schools for all kinds of extra courses. All of her peers were doing their utmost, and she didn’t want to lag behind.

Both Chinese students and their parents are under great pressure as a result of the NCEE. Students are permitted to take the examination just once, unlike the American SAT SAT or ACT, and thus many are willing to pay whatever it takes to achieve top marks. In bookstores, the bestsellers almost always include high school reference books. The hallways of private tutors and exam-preparation training schools are often crowded with anxious students and parents. In order to entitle their children to pursue their academic dreams, parents must therefore assume a heavy economic burden.

Perhaps the most significant cost of the NCEE is its psychological effects on students. Some rack their brains to beat the system. For example, it’s common knowledge that some students take advantage of China’s regional educational inequalities by moving to less-populated provinces where competition is less severe. And the story does not end when the examination is over. Some undergo a sense of uncertainty towards the future and towards life after the examination, and there have been reports of suicide from test pressure. When China’s youth must direct their studies towards a single examination, what is the end-goal of the education system beyond test day?

The Science Olympiad: shortcut or dead end?

Some students attempt to expand their high school educational experiences beyond the NCEE by participating in extracurricular programs and competitions, like the International Science Olympiads. The rule book of China’s high school Physics Olympiad states that the competition’s purpose is to stimulate students' interest in learning science, to help diversify the learning process at schools, and to create a livelier academic atmosphere. Unfortunately, the reality is a far cry from these ideals. Although the Olympiad caters exclusively to students who have already passed muster as the most brilliant minds in China, the team’s grueling preparation reveals that the competition is frequently more about college admissions mania than intellectual adventures.

For the past two decades, China has always been a dominant force in the International Science Olympiad arena. The physics team is made up of 29 competitors, each handpicked from tens of thousands of students nationwide. Simply being on the team could win any student access to Peking University or Tsinghua University, two of the top universities in China. Pei Dongfei, who won the gold medal in physics in the 2006 competition and is now a freshman at Peking University, said that at the 2006 International Olympiad, he could sense the little stir Chinese delegates caused wherever they went.

Pei is an exceptional student among millions of struggling Olympiad competitors in China. He climbed the ladder of local, provincial, and national competition, scored a spot on the national training team, and won a place on the national delegation team after three months of intensive preparation. Yet even students who cannot reach the international competition are still committed to the Olympiad because of a tantalizing potential reward: The first prize winners in provincial Olympiad competitions are guaranteed admission to a top university without sitting the NCEE.

Loads of students flood the competition each year, eager to escape the pain and stress of NCEE preparation. Faced with the fierce competition, Olympiad hopefuls not only have to devote all their spare time to training, but also must prepare for the NCEE in case they do not win. Both of the tests are given only once every year, and both bear huge risks and uncertainties: A careless mistake in calculation may mean farewell to the top universities.

In preparing for the Olympiad, students repeatedly practice solving problems on test paper instead of exploring the latest scientific advancement or discovering a new formula or algorithm. This is a bit ironic—what originally was an activity to encourage academic interest and talent has now become just another form of the NCEE.

Arts education: artistic enjoyment or utilitarian drudgery?

As the NCEE and the Science Olympiad encourage quantitative skills, a promising, different type of educational opportunity is becoming increasingly popular in China. Art institutions are becoming the rage for students of all ages, from three-year-olds to teenagers. Music and painting schools offer students the opportunity to win awards or seek accreditation from prestigious committees, though these prizes only come with the investment of time, energy, and money. And although these résumé-buffing achievements have become a part of the competitive environment in the Chinese education system, they are also symptoms of a new type of educational attitude that holds promise for the future.

Students with specialty in art are attractive to university admissions committees for the vitality they can bring to campus culture. This means that some parents, hoping to help their children stand out from the other applicants, send very young children to practice music or dance for hours each day. Of course, this trend has produced many success stories, such as the world-renowned 22-year-old pianist Lang Lang. He was just an ordinary boy among millions of so-called piano kids in China when he started playing at the age of three. But because of his genius—and his exceptionally strict father—he shot to superstardom.

But musical prodigies like Lang Lang are rare; more commonly, students who undergo arduous arts educations end up neglecting their skills once they receive their honors. Yun, who holds 10th degree top certification in piano-playing, is an example of this phenomenon. Under her parents’ pressure, Yun started playing when she was six years old and received the highest degree seven years later. Although there was much room for her advancement, Yun hardly ever touched the ivories after receiving the certificate, since her parents were now satisfied with her accomplishment. Yun admitted that she hates piano, and she is now concerned with the upcoming NCEE.

Fortunately, the exam-oriented education system in China is changing for the better. In recent years, the education authority has been testing new measures to amend the current system’s drawbacks, such as new curricula aimed at sparking students’ interests. Different types of talents—other than test-taking abilities—are being discovered and nurtured in Chinese schoolchildren. More parents send their children to art school for the experience itself and not as a stepping stone to prestigious universities.

Chinese students are also beginning to see a bigger world than just textbooks and test papers. They now have many more choices during vacations aside from studying: Many students now volunteer for community service or take part-time jobs to learn more about their society, and others take part in exchange programs or travel thousands of miles away from their hometowns. The students of today will become the leaders in the Chinese society of tomorrow, and their expanding educations will help them create a more open China.