A series of colorful, flickering candles mounted on top of a beautifully decorated cake. A shiny penny creating a ripple through a bright, clear pool of water. The instance of a shimmer darting across a dark sky. Thousands of tiny seeds dispersing from a dandelion puff and disappearing into the distance. As kids, we looked at these wonders with awe and excitement, waiting impatiently for that time of year when we can blow out our birthday candles, jumping at the chance to toss a coin into a fountain, keeping our eyes wide open for the hint of a shooting star, and diligently scanning the grass for the sight of a dandelion puff . Even when we're older, these same instances, although much less mystical, still create a spark of joy inside us and invoke the same response: we close our eyes, put our hands together, and make a wish.
When I was little, most of my wishes involved gaining possession of something. I would wish for a new Barbie doll, the toy kitchen set I had seen on TV, or a cute puppy. Some of these things (like the puppy) were never quite granted, but very often, I'd end up getting what I had longed for through birthdays, Christmases, or just a moment of generosity from my parents. As I grew older, I stopped wishing for material possessions, and instead my wishes became more around myself, my situation, and how others saw me. I wished to be more popular, to be prettier, for that cute boy to like me. They were usually things that I desperately wanted but had no idea how to achieve. I wished to wake up one day and find that these fantasies had magically come true, but they rarely ever did.
After awhile, I began to find it more difficult to come up with wishes, even though there were many things I wanted which I did not have. Wishing for a material possession seemed too shallow, and even more, I had come to realize that there was not one material possession that could truly make me happy. Wishing for something to change about myself or others seemed futile, as I had realized that these wishes seldom came true. Perhaps the biggest reason for not knowing what to wish for was the fact that I realized that almost everything I had wished for as a child and teenager could have been gained through my own actions. If I wanted a new toy, I could work hard to do chores until I had saved up enough money. If I wanted to have more friends, I could participate in more activities and take the initiative to meet more people.
I have learned that 99% of the time, wishes don't come true unless you actually do something to make them come true. Because of this, "making a wish" means something difference to me now: It is not some hopeless dream that I throw out there, waiting for the day it will come true. Rather, it is a promise to myself, a promise that I will continue to work hard to get what I want. I don't wish for something unless I whole-heartedly want it and am willing to make the effort to achieve it. Making a wish is one way to remind myself of who I am and my goals and values, and to re-motivate myself to continue to chase my dreams.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Monday, July 7, 2014
Shaping of the "Quiet Nerdy Asian": What we can learn (and not learn) from Chinese education
It is hardly a news-worthy observation that Asians* tend to excel in academics. And by excel, I mean acing every single test, flawless report cards, and perfect SAT scores. Winner of the regional math competition? Mostly likely Asian. Winner of the local piano competition? Most likely Asian as well. And we do it with what seems like very little pain or effort.
But it is also apparent that while Asians dominate in some areas, there are also areas with hardly any Asians. When was the last time you saw one playing at the football game at your local high school? Or as the star in your school's rendition of a Broadway musical? Often, it appears that Asians are in the background, doing activities that involve more brain-power and less action, while their non-Asian peers are putting themselves out there, stealing the spotlight. Hence, the image of the "quiet nerdy Asian" was formed.
Going to school in a small town with relatively few Asians, I got the following comments from my classmates (and sometimes, even teachers) time and time again:
"Wow, you are so smart! How do you get such good grades?"
"How come you never talk?"
I never really knew what to say when people asked me these questions. Over time, I've realized that the answer is actually not that simple, and a lot of it can be explained by looking at the underlying differences between Chinese and American education. The truth is that we are not "born this way", but rather, we were shaped this way from the values that were instilled in us and the culture that influenced us.
For a typical American student, homework represents a significant part of their school day. Starting from grade school, teachers give out homework assignments that students are expected to complete on time or risk being penalized. A student that successfully completes the homework assignments every day is considered a good student and rewarded for it. A student's main goal for each school day is to finish the homework; once homework is completed, the student forgets about school for the rest of the day and engages in other activities. Growing up in a Chinese household, things were completely different. Homework was never the endpoint, but rather, just the beginning. The expectation was to always go above and beyond the assignment that was due the next day. For instance, if the teacher asked the class to do all the odd math problems in the current chapter, you could be sure that I would do all the even problems as well. If the class was currently on Chapter 4 of the textbook, I would have already skimmed Chapter 5. In elementary and middle school, my parents often had to push me to go above and beyond, and I often found it very difficult to make myself do what seemed like extra work, while the rest of the class could get away with just doing the homework assignment. Gradually, however, I began to notice that my effort was paying off: I seemed to be developing a deeper understanding of the concepts compared to my peers, acing the majority of tests, and picking up new material much more quickly. In time, this became a habit and not something I had to force myself to do.
It turns out that reinforcement is a key aspect in Chinese education, the idea being that much like an athlete or a musician, the student must practice consistently in order to really master the material. In many cases, such as math or spelling, the "practice makes perfect" ideology really works. These subjects require repetitive practice until they become second nature, so that you can then utilize them whenever you need to. However, it is also important to realize that these skills are a means, not an end, and are only valuable if they can be applied in a useful way. Doing so involves critical thinking, which cannot be learned by simply doing a bunch of homework problems. Unfortunately, Chinese education often lacks a little in this aspect, as the focus is heavily weighted towards the skills and not the actual problems these skills can solve. In contrast, American schools help students to develop problem-solving skills by allowing them more room to grow and move at their own pace. Instead of burdening students with a large amount schoolwork, teachers encourage students to engage in more interactive projects or to explore on their own. Without the constraint of having to complete a large amount of homework each day, students have more time to think creatively about the lessons learnt and how to apply them in real life.
At an early age, American children are taught that they have a voice and are provided a safe environment in which they are free to express their thoughts and ideas. In classrooms, teachers encourage students to speak up and challenge the ideas and concepts they are learning, with the notion that it is perfectly okay to be wrong. Students who raise their hand often and participate actively in class are most often the teacher's favorites, while a student who is too quiet may be criticized for appearing to be bored or disengaged. On the contrary, Chinese children are generally taught to be humble and listen to their elders, absorbing in years of wisdom and advice until they are knowledgeable enough to contribute their own opinions. In Chinese schools, the teacher is revered as an authority figure that should not be challenged. There is far less room for open discussion, as students are expected to accept what is being taught to them, at least while in the classroom, as a form of respect to the teacher. The ability to sit quietly and focus is considered a virtue.
This difference may be one of the reasons that Asian students are generally perceived to be quieter and more reserved compared to their peers. Even more, it also explains why Asians tend to be so good at activities that involve intense periods of concentration, many of which are often considered to be "nerdy" compared to other more social activities: playing classical music, competing in math/science/chess competitions, and of course, studying and test-taking. Indeed, many subjects cannot be learned through talking and discussing; it really takes a few hours of sitting quietly by yourself in order to digest the material. On the other hand, Asians often feel at a loss in situations that require them to speak up or be in the spotlight. For instance, in classes such as English or history which involve a large amount of debate and discussion, it is typically non-Asian students who tend to dominate the conversation, while Asian students are less likely to voice their opinions or challenge what others are saying. Even in the work setting, I have noticed that my American colleagues are not only more vocal, but speak with more confidence and persuasiveness than the Asians on the team.
As the above examples show, there are definitely advantages and flaws in both the American and Chinese education systems. American students would benefit from learning from their disciplined and focused Asian peers, while Asian students should learn to speak up and think outside the box more often. In the end, the key to improving education will be to understand the differences between education systems and borrow from the positive aspects of each system.
*Note: I use the term "Asian" and "American" a bit loosely here, for simplicity's sake. By "Asian", I am referring to people with East Asian descent (particularly Chinese, as a matter of fact). By "American", I am mostly referring to Caucasian, as well as anyone who has been in North America for many generations and is deeply rooted in its culture.
But it is also apparent that while Asians dominate in some areas, there are also areas with hardly any Asians. When was the last time you saw one playing at the football game at your local high school? Or as the star in your school's rendition of a Broadway musical? Often, it appears that Asians are in the background, doing activities that involve more brain-power and less action, while their non-Asian peers are putting themselves out there, stealing the spotlight. Hence, the image of the "quiet nerdy Asian" was formed.
Going to school in a small town with relatively few Asians, I got the following comments from my classmates (and sometimes, even teachers) time and time again:
"Wow, you are so smart! How do you get such good grades?"
"How come you never talk?"
I never really knew what to say when people asked me these questions. Over time, I've realized that the answer is actually not that simple, and a lot of it can be explained by looking at the underlying differences between Chinese and American education. The truth is that we are not "born this way", but rather, we were shaped this way from the values that were instilled in us and the culture that influenced us.
For a typical American student, homework represents a significant part of their school day. Starting from grade school, teachers give out homework assignments that students are expected to complete on time or risk being penalized. A student that successfully completes the homework assignments every day is considered a good student and rewarded for it. A student's main goal for each school day is to finish the homework; once homework is completed, the student forgets about school for the rest of the day and engages in other activities. Growing up in a Chinese household, things were completely different. Homework was never the endpoint, but rather, just the beginning. The expectation was to always go above and beyond the assignment that was due the next day. For instance, if the teacher asked the class to do all the odd math problems in the current chapter, you could be sure that I would do all the even problems as well. If the class was currently on Chapter 4 of the textbook, I would have already skimmed Chapter 5. In elementary and middle school, my parents often had to push me to go above and beyond, and I often found it very difficult to make myself do what seemed like extra work, while the rest of the class could get away with just doing the homework assignment. Gradually, however, I began to notice that my effort was paying off: I seemed to be developing a deeper understanding of the concepts compared to my peers, acing the majority of tests, and picking up new material much more quickly. In time, this became a habit and not something I had to force myself to do.
It turns out that reinforcement is a key aspect in Chinese education, the idea being that much like an athlete or a musician, the student must practice consistently in order to really master the material. In many cases, such as math or spelling, the "practice makes perfect" ideology really works. These subjects require repetitive practice until they become second nature, so that you can then utilize them whenever you need to. However, it is also important to realize that these skills are a means, not an end, and are only valuable if they can be applied in a useful way. Doing so involves critical thinking, which cannot be learned by simply doing a bunch of homework problems. Unfortunately, Chinese education often lacks a little in this aspect, as the focus is heavily weighted towards the skills and not the actual problems these skills can solve. In contrast, American schools help students to develop problem-solving skills by allowing them more room to grow and move at their own pace. Instead of burdening students with a large amount schoolwork, teachers encourage students to engage in more interactive projects or to explore on their own. Without the constraint of having to complete a large amount of homework each day, students have more time to think creatively about the lessons learnt and how to apply them in real life.
At an early age, American children are taught that they have a voice and are provided a safe environment in which they are free to express their thoughts and ideas. In classrooms, teachers encourage students to speak up and challenge the ideas and concepts they are learning, with the notion that it is perfectly okay to be wrong. Students who raise their hand often and participate actively in class are most often the teacher's favorites, while a student who is too quiet may be criticized for appearing to be bored or disengaged. On the contrary, Chinese children are generally taught to be humble and listen to their elders, absorbing in years of wisdom and advice until they are knowledgeable enough to contribute their own opinions. In Chinese schools, the teacher is revered as an authority figure that should not be challenged. There is far less room for open discussion, as students are expected to accept what is being taught to them, at least while in the classroom, as a form of respect to the teacher. The ability to sit quietly and focus is considered a virtue.
This difference may be one of the reasons that Asian students are generally perceived to be quieter and more reserved compared to their peers. Even more, it also explains why Asians tend to be so good at activities that involve intense periods of concentration, many of which are often considered to be "nerdy" compared to other more social activities: playing classical music, competing in math/science/chess competitions, and of course, studying and test-taking. Indeed, many subjects cannot be learned through talking and discussing; it really takes a few hours of sitting quietly by yourself in order to digest the material. On the other hand, Asians often feel at a loss in situations that require them to speak up or be in the spotlight. For instance, in classes such as English or history which involve a large amount of debate and discussion, it is typically non-Asian students who tend to dominate the conversation, while Asian students are less likely to voice their opinions or challenge what others are saying. Even in the work setting, I have noticed that my American colleagues are not only more vocal, but speak with more confidence and persuasiveness than the Asians on the team.
As the above examples show, there are definitely advantages and flaws in both the American and Chinese education systems. American students would benefit from learning from their disciplined and focused Asian peers, while Asian students should learn to speak up and think outside the box more often. In the end, the key to improving education will be to understand the differences between education systems and borrow from the positive aspects of each system.
*Note: I use the term "Asian" and "American" a bit loosely here, for simplicity's sake. By "Asian", I am referring to people with East Asian descent (particularly Chinese, as a matter of fact). By "American", I am mostly referring to Caucasian, as well as anyone who has been in North America for many generations and is deeply rooted in its culture.
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