Is it Time to Change the Competitive Mindset of Education?

• 出 处: Beijing Review
• 发表日期: 2019年37期

　　A salient feature of China’s education system is competition， something that has long been the subject of debate. While Li Qi， a professor of economics at Agnes Scott College in Georgia， the United States， asserts that strict quantitative assessment at school helps prepare students for the real world but there is room for reform， Jiang Li， Vice President of the Test Group of Chinese Academy of Inspection and Quarantine， argues that instead of a frantic scramble for the most professionally rewarding disciplines， students should be encouraged to develop their true passions instead of being bulldozed into the subjects chosen for them by their parents.

Motivation with drawbacks

　　Li Qi： When I was a child， a popular saying among my classmates was “Test， test， test， a teacher’s magical weapon； grade， grade， grade， a student’s lifeline.” I find it still true in China. In contrast， my 6-year-old American daughter didn’t have any concept of grades until she started school in China. The only tests she had taken were the Measure of Academic Progress （MAP） tests， the computerized tests taken by students but meant for teachers， parents and administrators to improve learning for all students. The MAP test is about tracking progress， not assigning grades based on students’ performance.
　　However， my clueless child quickly grasped the meaning of grades and all their implications. In the Chinese education system， students are graded all the time. There is hardly any ungraded work （and there are daily homework and frequent exams）. In fact， there is an obsession with quantifiable performance assessment in every position and worker all over the Chinese society. My kid knows that a “showdown” time will come when she finds out how well she did on her homework or exam.
　　These are not “soft” grades where everyone receives at least an effort credit. There is not a lot of “sugarcoating” in Chinese schools， which I find refreshing most of the times but horrifying on some occasions. If your answer deserves only 59， you should not expect an automatic round-up to 60. Whereas as a college professor in the U.S.， I often feel the pressure of arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court for giving a bad grade to a student.
　　Also， students’ grades are essentially public knowledge among their classmates. When I was a child， one of my Chinese teachers used to give back the exam papers in descending order of grade， so the entire class recognized the “best” and the “worst” instantly. I felt bad for my child who was subject to the same practice. She came back one day quite upset because one of her classmates （who was put in charge of returning the papers） taunted her for scoring the lowest grade in her class （77 out of 100）. Holding back my anger and sadness， I asked her how she handled it. It turned out that my feisty girl said to the boy： “Well， I know you got only 73 a couple of weeks ago on a different exam！” Then she reported his“bullying” to the teacher. 　　As unhealthy and appalling as this sounds， I noticed that this sort of incident became a source of motivation for my daughter. This open knowledge of grades brews fierce competition. Somehow， the seeds of wishing to score the absolute best （100！） were planted and she did succeed in obtaining that elusive 100 in her last exam before leaving China. I am glad and proud that was how she reacted to this “negative” event， and on some level attribute lighting that desire for self-improvement to the competitive environment， although the public knowledge of grades must also discourage and “damage”many children.
　　Competition is always high among Chinese students due to the scarcity of real good schools compared to the large number of students. Getting into a good middle school， then a good high school， a good college and ultimately getting a good job becomes progressively more difficult as one climbs the social pyramid. The competitive environment in Chinese schools mirrors that in society， where most of the competition boils down to a quantifiable evaluation.
　　On most campuses in the U.S.， the “tough love” approach is not a popular or well-regarded way of teaching and interacting with students， regardless of their age. Sometimes I see what we do for our college students in the U.S. and wonder if we are sheltering them for too long from facing the real world， where efforts are important and should be praised， but jobs ultimately need one to deliver performance.

　　Compared to U.S. students， their Chinese peers are confronted at a much younger age with real competition that translates into real consequences. For small kids， they recognize that the grades are correlated with respect， social standing， teacher’s favor and parents’ approval. For older kids， this converts to chances of advancing to the next level of school and college， which ultimately links to income and social status as adults.

Not just a tool

　　Jiang Li： Does education have an intrinsic value or is it just a means to an end， based on short-term commercial outcomes？
　　A trend caught my eye after this year’s national college entrance examination， or gaokao， in June： the emerging consultancy business that advises prospective university students on how to complete the application form that lists their preferred majors and universities.
　　Submitting the form is a high-stake strategy game for students and their parents as they endeavor to stand out in the competition. Some parents tend to urge their children to choose majors with the best job prospects， regardless of their true interest. It is partly this that has resulted in the emergence of the application consultancy industry， which advises students to choose majors based on their potential for a lucrative job. For them， gaokao no longer represents its original vision and purpose， which is to prize the intrinsic value of education in itself and to the individual and society. 　　Although the overall college enrollment rate has improved greatly in China， the number of students wanting to attend a top university still far outnumbers the spots available. The analogy often used is of a giant army of soldiers and horses trying to cross a river using a single-log bridge. Only a few of these students will be successful in receiving an elite education.
　　Today， for many， attending a prestigious university can open doors to a well-paid job. Parents spend considerable time and money on extracurricular activities such as math Olympiads， essay writing， drawing and painting， and playing musical instruments because these activities improve students’ chances of admission. Seldom do you see parents encouraging their children to stick to their passions and interests. As part of this trend， humanities education is often viewed as less important than the sciences. With their focus on majors that lead to well-paying jobs， higher education institutions are reducing investment in subjects that may not have as good immediate job prospects.
　　Education should not be viewed as just a tool but as something far more fundamental to the development of each person by starting them on a lifelong journey of gaining wisdom. It is time to change the mindset and return to the original vision behind the gaokao that education is more than just going to a good university when you are young， more than choosing the most profitable majors with the highest return on investment.
　　Education is about pursuing what you are truly passionate about and becomes a guiding path throughout life. Public policy has a vital role to play in changing behaviors and funding those majors and those universities that have a higher purpose to support broader social and economic development. Then we will have a depth of talent， knowledge and skills in reserve for the future development and benefit of society.