“The test” in China is the National Exam, given to seniors, and others who wish to take it again, in late spring. It was administered the week that we were in Beijing, and the papers were filled with stories about “the test.” The results of the test determine to which college, if any, students will be admitted. The competition is strong, the stress is high. Newspaper stories reported incidents of cheating, including students attempting to smuggle answers into the test and test administrators willing to sell questions for a significant amount of money. A photo that has stayed in my heart and mind is of parents, standing in the hot sun outside the building where the test is given, in silent support of their children. (News photos.)
“The test” has its origins in a much earlier dynasty, when a test was devised to determine who was best qualified to serve in high government positions. It was an essay at that time, on such a topic as describing best practices (my phrase, certainly) for governing. It was strictly based on the teachings of Confucius. Because of the possibility of cheating, elaborate security measures were put in place even then. In the early 20th century, that test was discontinued. However, “the test” to enter a university remains, and it has been the topic of conversation with some educators and students with whom we have met.
The professor who was our second teacher on Chinese history and culture spoke of her concerns about the test. She has studied in Singapore and Great Britain, and she is the Dean of the School of Foreign Studies at Jiaotong University. Her degree is in English, and her research interests are in discourse and genre studies. She is well-spoken, thoughtful, and wise. I would like to know her better. She commented that she fears that the test has narrowed students’ studies, that they can only focus on content of the exam. She is concerned that the pressure to perform is too great; that student suicides have resulted from this pressure. She believes that not all students are interested in, nor suited for, a university education, and that the option of a professional school (we would call it a technical education) should be seen as a legitimate option for students. (This sounds familiar, doesn’t it. We are not the only nation struggling with issues such as these.)
My student interpreter at the secondary school we visited today is a junior. His spoken English was quite good, and he was charming and delightful. He likes physics, and he especially likes the experiments that are a part of physics. He wants to study in America. He’s already started to study for the test, and he’s taking it very seriously. Other students with whom we spoke told us about the length of their day (7:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m, with a two-hour lunch break) and their week (school is also held on Saturday). They spoke of homework until 11:00 p.m. Some said it’s “too much.” They know it’s necessary to do well on the test.
I don’t think the Chinese, nor the Americans, have figured out a system that assures that students are competent and capable at all the basic skills and the higher level thinking skills, with assessment that is fair and balanced and valid, assuring that all students are college or career ready at the conclusion of high school, whatever we define the “conclusion of high school” to be. And doing this in a way that builds in time for students to develop their own interests, explore new interests, develop friendships and social skills, and practice being a good citizen. We have a ways to go….
