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It is already 30 years since the university entrance exam was resumed, following a period in the 1960s and 1970s when universities were closed down. I still recall, vividly and clearly, my own experience of taking the exam.
For those of us who participated in the first and second exams, in 1977 and 1978, the opportunity to take it was like a precious gift, a "free cake" dropped from the sky. Particularly for someone like me -- born into a landlord family that was labeled one of the "five black categories" in Chinese society during the Cultural Revolution -- this kind of opportunity seemed beyond my wildest dreams.
At that time, one could only go to college through a recommendation system, and one of the most important criteria was "family background." The reason given by the authorities was that the power of cultural leadership should not fall into the wrong hands. Descendents of "unacceptable people" did not deserve to attend the great "socialist colleges." My mother often said that with our family background, we children would be lucky if we could attend middle school.
Based on the concept that someone with a bad family background could never be among the best, I felt that attending college would be an unbelievable dream, a gracious gift. Later this turned to an attitude of thankfulness when I was allowed to take the exam.
Reflecting on this mentality, I now think it is an abnormal attitude that needs to be thought over. It shows that after one has been deprived of one's rights for so long, he or she will gradually become accustomed to the situation. As a result, when the right is given back, the person feels it is a "gracious gift." This is abnormal. On the other hand, this mentality of thankfulness could be transformed into incredible motivation or amazingly strong tolerance.
I will never forget how I prepared for the university entrance examination. In mid 1978, because of my strong persistence, I was finally allowed by my parents and my workplace to take this exam. I was given just one week leave from work. Every day before that week, I went to work as usual and could only study during the evenings on workdays and on Sundays. We did not have Saturdays off at that time.
The factory dormitory where I lived was fully occupied, and there were no electric lamps, let alone libraries or reading rooms. I had to study by kerosene lamp or candlelight. On Sundays I would take my books and two steamed buns to a nearby hill and study there. My lunch was the cold buns and cold stream water. But studying all day long there made me feel mentally fulfilled.
I got no time off from the factory until the final week before the exam. Then I returned home to study -- the most hard-working period of study in my whole life. Every day I studied for at least 17 hours. If I got really sleepy I would pour cold water over my head in order to stay awake. This worked at the time, but later I paid a great price for it. I have experienced frequent headaches since that time, as well as declining memory even prior to middle age, which might have been caused by that.
In 1978, I was admitted to Zhejiang Normal University. When the term started, every day we had to move our chairs from the dormitory to the dining room, where classes were held in front of a temporary blackboard. Our classrooms were not even completed. But no one complained. After all, with such heartfelt thankfulness at our chance to study, who would complain about such small hardships?
Nowadays, I doubt that university students have such an attitude of gratitude toward the entrance examination. Ever since they began to understand the world, the exam has been part of the conventional system. The national exam and the universities' process of selecting students according to their scores are taken for granted.
Was there ever a time when universities did not select their students according to their scores on the entrance exam? This is inconceivable in the cognitive framework of today's Chinese students. It is impossible for them to view the right to participate in the exam as a "gift," and they are not grateful for the opportunity.
But during that period when attending university was regarded as a political privilege, and a work team leader could decide whether or not to allow a young person to take the exam, it seemed inconceivable that one's score on a national exam, and not one's family background or political status, would determine one's access to education. This went against the whole value system.
I haven't done research on the attitude today's high school students hold toward the university entrance exam, but I'm pretty sure they do not have the same feeling I did. They will consider it their natural right to participate in the exam, and think that their efforts have paid off if they are admitted to university. If their results in the exam are not good, they will attribute it to bad luck. They will never regard the exam as a "gracious gift." This is truly a blessing for them, and I wish them all good luck.
I hope that China will never again experience a time when attending university is considered a political privilege, or when people feel grateful for opportunities that should be their natural right.
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(Tao Dongfeng is a professor in the Chinese Department of Capital Normal University in Beijing. He is also editor-in-chief of the scholarly periodical "Culture Research." This article is translated and edited from the Chinese. ©Copyright Tao Dongfeng.)
