Of Geese and Gaokao

The buses pushed impatiently past each other until they slowed to a crawl on Tian Sheng Road.  Everything slowed down.  Trucks. Motorbikes. Bus 565 and then 502 virtually stopped. More buses. An accident? A police car? Or just the morning rush? I kept walking along, keeping parallel to the long, long vine-covered wall. Whatever it was, things started moving before I got to the next corner. And then things slowed down again. At last the culprits came into view—two bundles of white, a couple of confused geese who weren’t sure if they were headed east or west. They seemed to be consulting with each other and clumsily bumped into each other now and then before they finally crossed the busy road and stepped up on the curb in front of me. Really?! Who knew these little guys could stop traffic on Tian Sheng Road?! I don’t understand the physics, but I figure they virtually halted many tons of heavy metal holding tons of people and cargo, all moving at a good clip.

So, I don’t pretend to understand the physics, but one thing is certain—something seemingly puny could alter the path of a great force. But the physics of geese is nothing compared to the biology of the gaokao, as I discovered last week.

Some of my students were singing last week—and we got into a discussion of romantic songs and romance and dating. I asked some questions about dating—about dating in college, in high school. Now, my students have astonishing vocabularies, but they weren’t sure what I meant by “to date.” They eventually understood I meant something to do with courting, with a boyfriend and a girlfriend, with going out. And what they made clear was that they didn’t date in high school—they were forbidden to. And so I asked some other questions, and then when I had the chance I asked other students. Over and over and over I got the same story. They simply did not date. Maybe, one student would allow, some kids did secretly. Maybe, another student would say, a high school teacher would know but wouldn’t report it. Consistently, though, they said they simply weren’t allowed to date because they had to study. And over and over, most of my students said that, really, with few exceptions most kids didn’t. Why?  They didn’t have time. Of course! The gaokao! The famous college entrance exam.

I knew, of course, that my students studied hard throughout high school and devoted a good deal of their weekend time, month after month, year after year, to memorizing things for the gaokao. What I didn’t know was that the gaokao had the power to render inconsequential teenage hormones. I didn’t know that it was biologically possible.

Please don’t misunderstand me. I applaud the Chinese for placing a high value on education, and I admire within reason the self-discipline and work ethic that is cultivated nationwide. I also believe in the value of a prolonged innocence.  

My students might not be representative, but most of them say they didn’t go out, not to the movies, not anywhere. They didn’t have romantic relationships. Period.

I’ll spare you my temptation to go on and on about duty and desire. I’ll spare you my temptation to talk about the pros and cons of the gaokao, other than to share one quotation from Duncan Hewitt (below). I’ll just leave you with this thought: I simply didn’t know two geese could effectively cause a traffic jam in Beibei, and I didn’t know a paper pencil test could effectively arrest teenage feelings and relationships throughout the vast country called China.

And here's this from Hewitt:

"The gruelling three-day exam takes place in June each year, provoking a state of frenzied anxiety among parents and pupils alike. Local governments divert traffic to ensure that students arrive at the exam halls on time; building sites near schools are ordered to close in order not to disturb the candidates; some parents even hire hotel rooms so their children will not have to make too long a journey, and to allow them to do their final preparation in air-conditioned comfort. Crowds of parents wait for their children to emerge from the exam halls ready to ply them with snacks and drinks, or to fan them against the summer heat." (China, Getting Rich First, A Modern Social History)