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Educating the Young

        There was this M A level course ‘principles of Chinese culture’ offered by the City University of Hong Kong.  To make sure that students from up north could enjoy the same benefit, the Department made it a two-semester event, having the Cantonese session in the first semester, and the Mandarin one in the second.  All things considered, it cannot be said to be inconsiderate.

      A few students from across the border enrolled in the first session, then demanded the session be converted into Mandarin speaking; for, they claimed, they could not understand Cantonese.  Some local students disagreed, and a row erupted.  It was the Dean who intervened and settled the dispute.  Whether he handled the situation with a prudent measure is not my concern here; what interests me is the education phenomenon in front of us.

      It is not just an institutional phenomenon because it involves how our students conduct themselves, or deeper yet, it shows how we have trained our youth.  One reason they provided was that using Cantonese as the medium of instruction discriminated against them.  Is it true?  Under the circumstances, giving a double offering seems reasonable enough.  The discrimination argument does not seem to be persuasive to most.

      Another one, which they believed had more substance, goes something like this.  To graduate in summer, you need to complete all requirements by the end of the second semester.  So, you’d free up all possible time slots to fill in what you need to carry in the last term.  To make it easy for yourself, you’d try to get rid of ‘all other stuff’ by the end of the first.  That certainly benefits the person planning to leave school soon, but it causes all kinds of inconvenience to others.  In most cases, universities usually do not modify their set procedures only to make it easy for the few.

      And if that be labelled discriminatory, we may well ask: What is non-discrimination then?  Should the institution cancel all her Cantonese sessions and convert them all into Mandarin ones?  Would that be reasonable? (We are of course discussing as a matter of principle, not on the status of any linguistic form.) Would that be advantageous to the majority who do not speak Mandarin?

      Shortly after the incident, there were debates between the netizens themselves.  A university friend from Guangzhou sent me a note with this comment: When in Rome, do as the Romans do.  A cliché?  Yes.  It makes sense, does it not?  The question is: I’m sure those guys understood this well; so why didn’t they follow through?  That, my friend believes, comes from a superiority complex, a sense of arrogance as it were.  That arrogance, that special-privilege attitude, she says, is nurtured by a social atmosphere prevalent in many places in China today.  People become egotistic, very self-centred, have no regards for others’ concerns and feelings.

      If we care to look further, we see the similar phenomenon happening not just on campus, but outside of it; not just in Hong Kong, but almost everywhere in the world.  One of those students was interviewed afterwards, at which occasion he said he should have more privilege because he paid a higher fee than his local classmates.  I wonder what he would have said had he entered a state college in the US, say, UCLA, without being able to pay in-state.

      Comparing with the ‘Roman’ idiom, the Chinese parallel actually goes one step more.  It says literally like this: when you enter a village, you follow the custom (i.e. mores) of the villagers; when you enter a place, you beware of the taboos of the place.  And that has been a part of the social teaching for God knows how long.  It has not changed despite all the upheavals, all the revolutions, all the comings and goings of dynasties.  Now, apparently, we are not educating our youngsters as we should be, we have failed to train them a very basic tenet in social living.  No need to look afar, just look at how our young people behave here, and we can see we can’t really laugh at others.

      It may do our parents and teachers some good if they really reflect on this.

The Making of a University President

      In his 2010 Inaugural Address, the Vice Chancellor of the Chinese University of Hong Kong made us face squarely the facts almost unspoken of by our administrators.  The message in a nutshell is the following: it is resource (funding) and not our curiosity of knowledge that lures us to research.  It is institutional ranking they care about, not a mission to cultivate the young souls.  The rewards for professors are based on their ‘productivity’, not their scholarship.  For such trend to continue, we will only manufacture money-minded students, not responsible citizens who, whilst taking their own stance, are tolerant and open to others, with a sympathetic heart.  We will lose our imagination and creativity; our scientific research will not carry humanistic concerns; critical thinking will fade away.  Gradually we will lose sight of our educational values altogether.

    Such words of warning, coming as they are from a leader of a university, we have not heard for a very long time.  The fact that he could honestly preach them had, no doubt, a lot to do with his own long-time service and observations; but he gave special credit also to his reading habit, not as a professional, but as a person.  And he had revealed this in a recent interview.     

   As a young boy, he loved to read martial art fictions.  During high school, he read reference works; outside reading as we say.  Medical school was too heavy for him to do leisure reading.  However there was an episode that must have left him with an imprint for the rest of his life.  He was doing research in Canada.  Frequently he joined the classmates for coffee breaks.  From Astronomy to Zoology, he found them talking about a wide range of topics.  At one time these physicians were discussing about the French Revolution and he felt totally left out.  ‘The best part of the conversation is the dialogue after dessert,’ he said.  A clear lesson emerged: educated people should be knowledgeable people, not just specialists in their own narrow areas.

      People around him often talked about books, or themes around books, not money.  He observed people organising book clubs, not gambling groups, or stock-betting circles.  Looking back at life in Hong Kong, he said that was a ‘big contrast’.

      Then he developed an interest in reading biographies, especially in great orations by people like MLKing, JFKennedy, MGandhi, WChurchill, etc.  These were well-known heavy readers themselves.  He felt sad as he found from a survey that university students did not care about reading.  In the commencement speech last year, he emphasised broad reading, urging students to read books unrelated to their major fields, unrelated to their grades.  He wanted them to read about humanity, about civilisations, about history, about anything.  That was a way we could know more about the world around us, about ourselves.

      Regarding those parents who were too eager to exert pressure on their children to make money, he showed his misgivings.  Young people should have their own dreams, whatever those are.  Life begins when you go for your dream, not when you go after money.  He was not against making money; he just felt that young people should be allowed to shoot for their own goals first.

      What is an ideal university like, then?  He did not explicitly say.  What he did say was, an ideal university should give us young people who could really exercise their independent thinking as well as their critical judgement.  We may well ask ourselves whether our universities are successfully producing these, or even pursuing them.

      And we may well ask: How far are our higher learning institutions encouraging--not paying lip service--the students to read?

Broad reading is key to cultivating young minds

(This article first appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition on Nov 15, 2013)

In his 2010 inaugural address as vice-chancellor of Chinese University, Joseph Sung Jao-yiu, made us face some facts that aren't generally discussed by higher-education administrators.

The message in a nutshell: it is resource funding, not our curiosity or thirst for knowledge, that drives us to research. Too much emphasis is placed on institutional rankings, rather than on cultivating young souls. And rewards for professors are based on their "productivity", not their scholarship.

If this trend continues, Sung says, it would serve only to manufacture money-minded students, not responsible citizens, who, while taking their own stance, are tolerant and open to others and have a compassionate heart. We would also become less imaginative and creative, our scientific research won't carry humanistic concerns, and critical thinking will fade away. We will gradually lose sight of all our education values. Such words of warning have not been heard for a long time from a university leader. The fact that he could honestly preach them had, undoubtedly, a lot to do with his own long service and observations; but he also gave special credit to his reading habits.

In a recent interview with Books4You Magazine, Sung said he loved reading fictional martial arts stories as a child. In high school, he read reference works - "outside reading". Medical school was too intense for him to do leisure reading. However, one moment when he was conducting research in Canada had a profound impact on his life. He says he would frequently join classmates for coffee breaks, and he found them discussing a wide range of topics - from astronomy to zoology. One day, his fellow physicians were discussing the French Revolution, and he felt left out. "The best part of the conversation is the dialogue after dessert," he said.

The lesson was clear: educated people should be knowledgeable, and not just specialists in their own fields.

People around him often talked about books or their themes, not money. He saw book clubs, not gambling groups or stock-betting circles. Looking back at life in Hong Kong, he says this was a "big contrast".

Then he developed an interest in reading biographies, including those of Martin Luther King Jnr, John F. Kennedy, Mahatma Gandhi and Winston Churchill.

Sung was saddened to learn from a survey that many university students did not care about reading. In last year's commencement speech, he urged students to read books unrelated to their grades or majors. He wants them to read about humanity, civilisations, history, anything. In this way, we can learn more about the world around us and about ourselves.

Regarding some parents who pressure their children to make money, he had misgivings. Young people should have their own dreams, whatever they are. Life begins when you pursue your dreams, not when you go after money. He was not against making money; he just felt that young people should be allowed to shoot for their own goals first.

So what is an ideal university like? He said an ideal university should give us young people who can truly exercise their independent thinking, as well as their critical judgment. We may well ask ourselves whether our universities are successfully producing these, or even pursuing them.

And we may well ask: how much are higher learning institutions encouraging their students to read?

Best lessons in life start at an early age

(This article first appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition on Oct 21, 2013)

It is often said that Hong Kong parents have one common worry: they don't want their children to "lose at the starting point".

As teachers, parents and as a society, we push youngsters to take extra lessons, to join the scouts, learn the piano or take swimming lessons.

We care mainly about schools with a reputable name and do not work to cultivate proper habits or good character. No wonder some observers have suggested Hong Kong has fallen behind.

But you won't truly understand what it means to fall behind until you observe what a quality education looks like.

The following is what a teacher and his primary school class experienced when they visited a Japanese primary school - and not a "famous" school, at that.

Entering the cafeteria, the teacher sees a group of students, dressed like nurses, holding buckets full of clean trays, milk bottles, chopsticks and spoons. All are primary school age.

The routine is that one class is selected each day to help in the kitchen, setting tables and carrying utensils.

When the dining tables are set, the students sit on one side and wait for their visitors to be seated. No one holds up their chopsticks.

The visitors sit facing their hosts so they can talk and build friendships. No one shouts, no one screams and no one runs around the cafeteria.

Everyone has the same meal. They eat a simple lunch of rice, vegetables, a few pieces of meat, and soup and each have a bottle of milk with a lid tied on with string, and the students help open their friend's bottle. The paper lid and plastic string are placed into two containers for recycling. Being taught to look after the environment begins early.

A nearby group starts playing rock-paper-scissors. The winners share the milk that has not been consumed.

The teacher looks around and sees that most of the students have finished their food, although his class has not.

When the Japanese pupils take their trays back to a collection point, the teacher notices the milk bottles are lying flat on the tray. One child says that way, the empty bottle won't fall off.

The leftovers and kitchen waste are collected, and the chopsticks and plates are left in their assigned place. As children get up to leave, a few grab small towels and clean up. The others carry the buckets of empty bottles and trays back to the kitchen.

Everyone moves smoothly and orderly, without much noise, highlighting their good manners. The pupils are not told what to do; presumably they are used to the routine.

It is a demonstration of what "all for one and one for all" means. It is group life, mutual help, good habits and manners, all in one.

If Hong Kong's students are to compete, the starting point is not at the university gate, it is early in life.

In the long run, it is not about if children can spell correctly or perform arithmetic quickly. It is about their habits and character.

If Hong Kong can't do as well as the Japanese students in this column, then we have already lost the race - at the starting point.

The lesson university skipped

(This article first appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition on Sep 30, 2013)

Just how tough are our university students? A recent survey conducted jointly by social enterprise Solution on Wheels and charity Wu Zhi Qiao (Bridge to China) found that of 1,000 people interviewed (118 of whom were undergraduates), only 7.5 per cent thought students could tolerate being reprimanded and only 9.5 per cent felt young people could deal with boredom.

Vincent Wong, CEO of Solution on Wheels, suggests such scepticism might be due to the public's higher expectation of university graduates. He believes graduates would cope better with both issues once they found employment.

Eric Chan, a medical student who participated in the project, says: "Students need to face reality, as making mistakes at work is far more serious than in school."

The report also said that young people should not expect sudden riches after graduating.

While the survey may not have been entirely scientific, and the sample may have been small, its findings do seem to fit the common perceptions in society of young people. The question is why do these persist?

Certainly, in a civilised community we expect citizens to treat each other with proper respect, regardless of seniority. But, unfortunately, the fact remains that in a workplace those offering advice are not always entirely courteous.

However, shouldn't we expect this? When I entered the job market, my generation was prepared for the toughness of real life, and we took it as something we had to learn about - a necessary part of growing up. And, in most cases, we did not take that personally.

In his book, The World is Flat, Thomas Friedman describes how in a world where outsourcing is the norm, employees are often expected to work long hours. Furthermore, with multinational corporations everywhere, being transferred overseas for work is also common practice.

And who has to be told this?

Unless you get lucky and find yourself a job you enjoy - and such roles are rare - you are bound to find your job not very exciting or rewarding.

A university is a place of higher learning; it is not a model of your future workplace. We never dreamed that once we left the campus, we would walk straight into a rose garden.

We were rightly told there was no rose garden awaiting us. We were taught that we should work hard, save hard, and struggle our way through in sweat and tears.

So the question we, as a community, have to ask is why the current generation of young university graduates is so fragile. How have they come to be so vulnerable? Surely, as the world is getting more competitive, our young citizens ought to be tougher, not weaker.

Maybe we should reflect on our way of raising children nowadays. The overprotected young are not sturdy enough to face the harsh reality of the modern workplace.

The primary school, the secondary school and the home front are the formative places for young people - not university campuses.

No easy solution to language barrier facing minorities

(This article first appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition on Aug 26, 2013)

In the second half of the 19th century, the Hong Kong government began to bring in labour from other parts of the British empire.

They recruited people from British India, including what is now Pakistan and Bangledesh, as well as Ceylon (now Sri Lanka). They also brought in people from Malaya, mostly of Indian origin. Many of them joined the local constabulary; others were working as house servants, guards and the like.

Quite a few of them acquired British citizenship and they they eventually settled in Britain. But many did not; they were left behind after July 1997. That presented a dilemma for those who had been living in a sort of self-created enclave. Going back to their native land does not seem like an easy choice. What about staying here without a desire to be integrated into Chinese society? That's not a pretty option either.

For one thing, the local populace does not really care. They are not hostile, but they maintain a kind of "live and let live" attitude where you have to survive on your own.

Certainly, that is not a problem if you have money or speak English well, or manage to climb the social ladder. But what if you are not a person of means? What if you need to keep yourself afloat, just like the rest of us?

To survive, you need knowledge of the Chinese language. This is why, a few weeks ago, the headmistress of a local Islamic high school, voiced her concerns in a newspaper. According to her, minorities cannot get into the Civil Service Bureau because of the language requirement. (She did not mention the private sector.)

Another problem, she says, is minorities are usually advised to take the International General Certificate of Secondary Education (IGCSE) or General Certificate of Education (GCE) Chinese-language exams. But the IGCSE and the GCE are only equivalent to Form Three and Primary Six levels respectively, not to mention the course content does not deal with the society they need to understand. Besides, the link between primary and secondary schools is not smooth for them, creating a headache when there are different levels within a class.

Her solution? Writing a new set of learning materials for minorities that would fit their needs. When they have to take the public exams, make it a Form Three level, not a Form Six level, for all of them.

Years ago, a Portuguese person from Macau could come to study in our middle schools, take French as a second language (English being the first, of course) and sit for our Hong Kong Certificate of Education Examination. She did not have to take Chinese at all.

Today, if you enrol in an international school, you don't need to take Form Six-level Chinese. Can this be applied to our minorities? I do not know.

I agree with the headmistress when she expresses the worry that unless the "Chinese question" can somehow be resolved, there's no real future for most of them. But even if her ideas are adopted, it won't solve the problem.

Universities may be willing to take you in on an IGCSE score despite your poor Chinese-language skills, just as they admit foreigners who know not a word of Chinese. But unless you find a job that requires little Chinese skills, the prospects are not bright.

This is an issue that our education authorities have to think hard about