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Fifty-five — Talk about the education of last 15 years

My blog turns four this year, and this year also marks my graduation from undergraduate studies. Therefore, the theme of this anniversary is to reflect on the domestic education that has accompanied me for the past fifteen years.

This is a heavy topic, but I don't intend to delve into lengthy discussions. Instead, I've chosen a lighter approach: by evaluating the teachers I've encountered from elementary school to university, I hope to sketch a rough outline of education from my perspective.

Overall Evaluation

From a god's-eye perspective, I am generally satisfied with the domestic education system, rating it around 70 out of 100. The reason is that the gaokao system remains relatively fair and still serves the purpose of filtering talent. However, from a personal experience standpoint, I can only give it 55 out of 100—a failing grade.

Elementary School (Five Years)

I attended elementary school in what was then a poverty-stricken county. Although there were nearly 90 students in a single class, without a doubt, elementary school was the happiest time of my life—I'd rate it 95 out of 100. Except for the pressure of preparing for middle school entrance in fifth grade, there was no stress at all. The long winter and summer vacations were spent playing with friends and playing games on the computer (smartphones weren't popular back then), giving me a golden childhood.

My Chinese language teacher was teaching for the first time—young and energetic, with her daughter also in our class. At the time, I was introverted and reluctant to play with other students, so the teacher arranged for her daughter to be my desk mate and had a few other girls invite me to play jump rope and elastic band games during breaks (though I never quite learned how to play). Over time, I gradually became close friends with two or three male classmates. It was clear that the Chinese teacher cared deeply about me (I'm not sure if it was because my father worked at the county education bureau). However, this care also had a somewhat "spoiling" side—during every final exam, she would find ways to deduct fewer points from my Chinese test papers so that I would rank first in the grade. I was happy, and her performance metrics were met—it seemed like a win-win situation, but it actually set the stage for the challenges I faced in middle school.

The math teacher was slightly older, not only beautiful but also renowned throughout the county for her teaching skills. In the first class, since I had already mastered the material, I absentmindedly stared out the window. The math teacher told the other students not to follow my example. Naturally, I was defiant, and in every subsequent exam, I proved her wrong. After that, I often stayed after school to discuss math problems with her. I had just learned about "number systems" from the computer and asked her if operations in binary and decimal were completely different. She replied that they were entirely different (though her answer was somewhat biased—addition is still addition, and multiplication is still multiplication; they aren't "completely different"). I also noticed that continuously multiplying by 2 on a calculator always resulted in a cycle ending with 2, 4, 8, and 6, with a cycle length of 4, so I asked her what the relationship between 10 and 4 was—she naturally couldn't answer. I also asked questions like, "What is the remainder when 2008^2009 is divided by 7?" It wasn't until high school, when I learned about Euler's theorem in number theory, that I finally solved these problems. In fourth grade, I bypassed the GFW for the first time while trying to download Mathematica, so I no longer needed to ask her questions constantly. In fifth grade, we got a new math teacher. Both of these math teachers favored corporal punishment. The teacher for grades one to four would hit our hands with a ruler when we made careless mistakes, while the latter would make us copy a certain concept from the textbook 100 times if the class discipline was poor. This made me miserable, and I learned to use multiple pens for pipeline copying. This is the only flaw I could find in these two math teachers.

English classes didn't start until third grade, and English teachers were extremely scarce in the county at the time—we only had one English class per week. Her voice was rather soft, and she often used a ruler to tap on the desk to maintain classroom quiet. Since my impression of her is faint, I'm not sure if her accent was standard.

Preparatory Middle School (One Year)

In sixth grade, I went to a private middle school in a prefecture-level city to take an independent enrollment exam. Thanks to my strong performance in math and English, I was awarded a special prize—a 60,000-yuan scholarship—and was admitted to the school's preparatory grade. That preparatory year was quite enjoyable; aside from the addition of weekly and monthly exams, it still felt largely like the carefree days of elementary school. I'd rate it an 85 out of 100.

My Chinese teacher described herself as a "lazy person," claiming that students' performance had little to do with her. One memorable moment was when she played Qi Yu's "Olive Tree" in class and briefly talked about Sanmao's life. At the time, however, I was more of an INTP than an INFP, so I couldn't immediately grasp what Sanmao was truly pursuing. Nevertheless, the events that unfolded later in my life created a fascinating chemical reaction with that lesson, profoundly shaping my outlook on life. Another memory involves having just learned how to use the command prompt to schedule a computer shutdown—a trick I attempted to play on her computer as a prank. It ended up causing her some trouble, but I managed to wrap it up elegantly without any serious consequences.

The math teacher was older, wore glasses, and had teeth discolored from years of smoking. One of his catchphrases that stuck with me was, "Wha—at?!"—uttered with a mix of surprise and disdain whenever someone gave a wrong answer. I consistently scored full or nearly full marks on math exams, which made me somewhat well-known in the two classes he taught. Even when I made careless mistakes, he would say things like, "Even xxx got this one wrong," treating my errors as some kind of extraordinary phenomenon. During that time, the school also organized what they called the "Elementary School Edition of the IMO" (no idea where they got the questions) and the officially sanctioned "Hope Cup." The former competition led nowhere, and the latter ended with me only earning a bronze medal.

As for the English teacher, aside from the mandatory weekend English tutoring sessions where she played songs before class, I don't have many distinct memories. It was then that I learned to recognize songs like "Yesterday Once More" and "Lemon Tree." During one class, I successfully pulled off the scheduled shutdown trick again. As the teacher was lecturing, a window popped up on her computer warning that it would shut down in five minutes. Yet, she remained completely unflustered, continued teaching, and when the computer turned off, she simply started writing on the blackboard. The panicked reaction I had imagined never happened, which left me somewhat disappointed.

Middle School (Three Years)

After the preparatory phase, I continued my studies at this private middle school. My parents paid an extra 15,000 yuan per year for three years to enroll me in the so-called "Cloud Class," which promised theoretically better teachers and a useless Young Pioneer learning tablet. For me, however, this marked the beginning of three years of nightmarish life. I can only give it a score of 20.

Chinese Language

The Chinese language teacher was roughly in his fifties or sixties, and the most infuriating aspect of him was his various forms of "psychological abuse." His misdeeds are too numerous to mention, including but not limited to:

At the time, my anger was so intense that even these descriptions feel inadequate. I genuinely wanted to secretly bring a voice recorder to document his words and actions and then report his behavior. However, my parents strongly opposed the idea, fearing it would affect my studies—so the matter was eventually dropped. These three years of experience significantly changed my mindset:

Of course, he did have some positive traits. For example, his blackboard writing was very neat, his teaching was profound, and his worldview was relatively normal (e.g., acknowledging that Japan has a richer cultural heritage than South Korea without blindly anti-Japanese sentiment). He also didn't exhibit the gender-based favoritism that some later teachers did.

Mathematics

The math teacher was about the same age as the Chinese teacher but had far better verbal restraint. Throughout the three years of middle school, I hardly ever heard him use profanity. Even when a student performed poorly in math, he would tactfully describe it as being "humble." Since it was a "cloud class," the teacher often went beyond the textbook requirements to introduce some "abstract and elusive" knowledge. For example:

Similar to my experience in preparatory school, my math performance in middle school was consistently perfect or near-perfect; I don't recall ever making a significant mistake. As a result, when my relative's child later attended the same middle school, even teachers from other classes still remembered my name. Unfortunately, throughout my three years there, the school never held a single middle school math league competition. I never had the chance to truly showcase my skills, so I consoled myself by working through past years' final problems from the Harbin exams. I practiced so much that I could complete questions 26 and 27 within a single class period.

English

The English teacher (who also served as the homeroom teacher) was around forty years old and represented another "typical" case. In terms of professional ethics, he was probably no better than the Chinese teacher. Fortunately, my English was as strong as my math, or else I wouldn't have been spared from his scolding. Aside from occasionally using foul language (less frequently than the Chinese teacher, but still quite offensive), what stood out more were some of his outrageous remarks that even misled me at times:

Sadly, it seems that most schools in the country promote this kind of misguided values.

Apart from this, similar to the Chinese teacher, physical violence was also present:

Unlike the Chinese teacher, his professional competence in English was actually quite mediocre. He even mispronounced the word "consumption" (saying something like "com-su-pi-ti-tion"). In other words, it seems difficult to find any redeeming qualities in him.

Physics, Chemistry, Biology

The physics teacher is relatively young and slightly chubby. Since he is not a teacher for the "Cloud Class" (an advanced class), his lessons are relatively relaxed, without any instances of verbal abuse or similar issues. From my intuition, he seems like the warm and caring type, and after two years of observation, I haven't noticed any obvious flaws in him.

The chemistry teacher is the third "typical" one, around the same age as the Chinese and math teachers. He also likes to emphasize phrases such as "one step ahead, always ahead" and "overtaking during holidays," promoting the culture of academic overwork. During the first class, his computer malfunctioned, and he couldn't fix it himself. As the class IT assistant, I volunteered to try and repair it but didn't succeed. He responded with a look of disdain, saying, "See? This problem just can't be fixed." I felt like I had received a cold shoulder after showing initiative, and my impression of him instantly soured. However, the most valuable thing I remember him saying was his warning to students not to drink alcohol. He explained that alcohol kills cells in the body—drink a little, and it kills a few cells—and dismissed the notion that "moderate drinking is beneficial to health" as nonsense.

As for biology teachers, there were two. In the first year of junior high, there was a female teacher. Near the end of the school year, she showed a video related to Cui Yongyuan and genetically modified foods. I approached her and managed to obtain a copy of the video file. I also tried to add her as a friend, but she declined. In the second year, there was a male biology teacher, but I don't have any particular impression of him.

Politics, History, and Geography

The politics teacher was petite and loved wearing short skirts with stockings, occasionally opting for jeans—this alone speaks volumes about how dull the class was, given that I started paying attention to her outfits. Perhaps this was one of the few splashes of color in my otherwise monotonous middle school life. The downside was her thick prescription glasses, which somewhat detracted from her appearance.

The history teacher was a man around fifty years old who seemed very cultured. The only thing I remember him saying was that when writing history, one should "neither conceal the evil nor exaggerate the good." I often wondered whether he was hinting at something with those words.

The geography teacher, unlike the politics teacher, had a face marked by the wear and tear of time, as is common for many middle-aged women. I recall that just before the high school entrance exams for geography and biology, she would make students who made mistakes on practice tests stand up, and each would receive a slap on the palm as corporal punishment—but these were all minor incidents in the grand scheme of things.

High School (Two Years)

I'm not sure if it's because I didn't go through the third year of high school, but the high school life I remember felt like going from hell to heaven. Although the pressure of the college entrance exam didn't just vanish, I clearly felt that my alma mater—Chengdu No. 7 High School—gave students what they needed most: respect, along with a certain degree of humanistic care. For that reason, I give my high school an 80 out of 100.

Competition Class

The Chinese language teacher (who also served as the homeroom teacher) had a hint of handsomeness but was rather stern and unsmiling. Since high school competition studies were quite exhausting, and Chinese classes were usually held in the morning, the teacher's voice, though somewhat magnetic, was still quite soporific. As a result, I was often in a drowsy state during class. When I withdrew from the competition class in my second year of high school, some of my unconventional behaviors drew criticism from him. One of his remarks has stayed with me for life:

"Aside from your parents, no one will treat you unconditionally well."

However, shortly after, as the criticism touched upon those unbearable memories from middle school, I couldn't hold back and began to sob. Although the teacher might have been displeased with my behavior, and it might have even caused trouble for him, he still patted my shoulder and handed me a tissue. This was the first time I felt warmth from someone "aside from my parents."

The math teacher was said to have stepped down from the competition class, but similar to the exhaustion from competitions, I was often in a drowsy state during his classes as well, so I don't have a deep impression of him.

The English teacher was young and beautiful, with what seemed to be a good accent. Since my English was relatively strong, she often encouraged me to aim for a score of 140. However, perhaps because I couldn't master the Hengshui style of handwriting (I also questioned this writing style that sacrifices one's individuality to please graders), I never achieved that goal even by the end of the college entrance exam. For this, I feel a slight regret.

There were two physics teachers (the first one was poached by my middle school to serve as a competition coach for their high school). The latter also taught physics in the non-competition class, which will be discussed later.

There were also two chemistry teachers. The first one appeared rather weary but was very dedicated. The latter was quite young and had returned from UCSB to teach us. Both adopted a teaching method where students copied the teacher's notes from the blackboard into their notebooks. Since I only barely passed the chemistry section of the college entrance exam, I have no right to comment on this teaching style.

The biology teacher also seemed to serve as a competition coach. My impression was that his voice was particularly hypnotic, which indirectly led to me scoring only 46 points in the final exam of the second semester of my first year of high school—not even reaching the passing mark.

Non-Competition Class

The Chinese language teacher was relatively older but incredibly energetic, which was quite unexpected for her age. Like the Chinese teacher from the preparatory grade, she also enjoyed playing songs in class (such as "Zijin" and "Song of the Orchid"), which rekindled my appreciation for the subject. According to other students, even those who didn't study at Qizhong admired her Chinese classes. Under her guidance, my Chinese grades improved somewhat, even reaching above 120 points at one point, and remained above 110 during the college entrance examination.

The math teacher (who was also the homeroom teacher) was relatively young and was teaching a top-tier class within the regular track for the first time. Although he didn't delve into as many advanced topics as previous math competition coaches or even my middle school math teachers, he invited retired math competition students to present knowledge that fell between the college entrance exam and competition level before class (I distinctly remember various affine transformations in plane geometry, which provided some intuitive help with solving conic section problems). In my opinion, this approach was quite successful. However, during his lectures, most students in the class didn't seem to be paying attention—instead, they focused on solving problems or doing homework for other subjects. One memorable incident was when I used a self-devised method to solve a challenging derivative problem in the Qizhong math workbook. To protect me, the teacher neither marked it right nor wrong, for which I remain deeply grateful. As for my high school math performance, without attending senior year and with minimal effort, my scores consistently ranged between 130 and 140 points. In the college entrance exam, I scored 139, which was the highest math score I achieved in high school.

The English teacher was the intellectual, poised type with a decent accent. Once, after a monthly exam, for some unknown reason, I wrote a lengthy exam reflection in English. Unexpectedly, this reflection was publicly praised during a parent-teacher conference—one of the few honors I received in high school. Additionally, since she mentioned that an important reason for learning English was to gain a different perspective on understanding the world, I once recommended a certain "ladder" (VPN) to her. She tried it and found it quite useful, though it seemed she didn't continue using it afterward. One of her few flaws was that she once advocated for the 996 work schedule (and even hoped every student could become 007). I hope she didn't genuinely believe that.

The physics teacher (the successor to the competition class teacher) had a unique habit of listing 12 classic physics problems on a single A4 sheet (commonly known as "mini-exercises") and asking students to cut them out, paste them into their notebooks, and write out the calculations. During class, he loved boasting about his study abroad experiences in the UK, but due to time constraints, his explanations of problem-solving were rather brief. After the college entrance exam, it occurred to me that he might also be teaching the same "mini-exercises" at a nearby tutoring center to improve his livelihood—though this is purely speculative, with no concrete evidence. It's a realistic aspect of the teaching profession. He has since retired.

The chemistry teacher was older and somewhat "portly," but his lectures were lively and humorous. Like the physics teacher, he enjoyed boasting about his proud experiences in the 1990s, such as owning a brick phone and driving a car. It seems the Qizhong chemistry department's teaching model—having students copy the teacher's notes into their notebooks—was pioneered by him and passed down through a mentorship system to teachers in competition and other classes. My overall impression of him was positive, though he occasionally lacked tact. Once, when the school celebrated a student winning an international gold medal in the Informatics Olympiad, he criticized these students in class for having "dull eyes" and urged them to "enjoy life" like he did. Regardless of whether his argument was valid, there were students in the classroom who had retired from the Informatics Olympiad, and he failed to consider their feelings. The year after I graduated, during my senior year of high school, he retired due to health issues.

My only impression of the biology teacher was that he was bald. I don't have any particularly strong memories of him, and I only achieved an average score in the subject on the college entrance exam. It's worth noting that he wrote my message for the coming-of-age ceremony: the cliché "Read ten thousand books, travel ten thousand miles"—as if mediocrity is the norm in life.

Due to competition commitments and the division into arts and science tracks, I only attended one class with the politics teacher. She complained about losing 200,000 yuan in stock trading and advised everyone against it. I figured that even Qizhong teachers lost significant money in stocks, so it's best to avoid such speculative ventures. Later, I self-studied the high school political economics curriculum, which gave me a basic understanding of concepts like financial management.

I'm really sorry, but I have no impression of the history teacher—I can't even remember their gender.

The geography teacher was relatively young. Since I was also interested in geography, I often approached her after class with questions. This made me stand out in a group surrounded by science students, and the geography teacher jokingly referred to our conversations as "awkward chats." Surprisingly, I scored 94 on my first geography monthly exam—the highest subject ranking I ever achieved in my grade, aside from a perfect score on a physics proficiency test in my second year of high school. Unexpectedly, it wasn't math. Of course, this didn't last long after the arts and science track division.

University (Four Years)

Since the concept of a fixed class is significantly weakened in university, and professors only accompany us for a dozen or so classes over one semester, it's difficult to form a comprehensive impression of them. Therefore, I'll evaluate the university and the school (college) instead.

For the university, I'd give it an 80 out of 100. As Sichuan University's motto states, "The sea admits hundreds of rivers; its capacity is immense." As a comprehensive university, the atmosphere is indeed very inclusive. The strengths include:

However, there are some minor flaws, such as:

As for the school (college), I can only give it a 60 out of 100, though this score might change in the future. Strengths include:

The shortcomings are more interesting. These issues aren't solely the school's fault but seem to stem from a combination of societal pressures and differing expectations among teachers and students:

In summary, if any readers are about to enter university, unless you have strong social skills or family connections, whether you're pursuing research or a job, you need to believe that Bilibili University or self-study is the only real path to success. Of course, balancing your interests, abilities, and the school's GPA requirements is a constant challenge throughout your four years—this is something everyone must figure out for themselves.