I remember reading a report by a Western journalist 26 years ago about the
early days of China's reform. I have forgotten the reporter's name and the title
of the publication he worked for, but one detail in the story has lingered on in
my memory.
The reporter said he was travelling on a train in a Chinese province when he
saw out of the window a woman walking with her baby on a dusty road beside the
tracks. The woman was kissing her baby repeatedly while walking quickly towards
a factory gate, apparently trying to reach the workshop on time.
I assume that the foreign journalist cited the example to illustrate that the
universal maternal love for kids was also seen in China, which was still mired
in poverty after 10 years of the chaotic "cultural revolution" (1966-76). "For
the Chinese, children are their greatest hope," wrote the reporter.
A quarter of a century has passed since then. We Chinese have mostly got out
of poverty and can afford a much more expensive expression of affection for our
children. All parents spend the major part of their earnings on their kids'
well-being and education. In urban areas, school-age children's needs are fully
satisfied in terms of learning, playing and nutrition, and even mobile
communication. In rural areas, even the poorest families put children's
education at the top of their budgets.
However, such expressions of love and care have become much too exorbitant to
guarantee the healthy development of the younger generation. The annual national
college entrance exams most typically illustrate the excessiveness of such
caring.
Take this year's exam for example.
During the three-day exams last week, most parents of the examinees asked for
leave to accompany their kids to the exam venues and waited outside for the
whole day. Many of them booked rooms in nearby hotels for the teenagers to rest
at lunchtime. Newspapers carried articles telling parents what types of food
their kids should be eating at this crucial time.
And almost the whole of society was mobilized to provide a comfortable
environment for the teenagers. Traffic authorities in all cities and towns
cordoned off nearby streets to prevent passing vehicles from disturbing the
examinees. Police cars and ambulances waited outside almost all exam venues in
case of emergencies. Nearby entertainment venues were warned against making
noises. Taxi drivers were urged to voluntarily ferry the students to exam
venues. The airport in Dalian in Northeast China even ordered aircraft to change
their routes to avoid flying over the city.
I felt very encouraged by the spirit of humanitarianism displayed in these
moves, especially those taken by government authorities. This reflects our
nation's progress in the drive to build a more civilized society.
However, I still feel worried about the excessiveness in our caring for the
younger generation. We seem to have pampered the kids too much. Is the noontime
rest in luxurious hotel rooms and the diversion of aircraft flying over a city
really necessary? What kind of an impression will be left in the youngsters'
mind by such activities? Will they be able to meet challenges when they become
adults?
Our kids have been spoiled to some extent in recent years. There have been
several media reports about Chinese children losing to their foreign peers in
contests designed to test their capability to survive rigorous field conditions.
Chinese parents should learn something from their foreign counterparts.
A few days prior to last week's national exam, 436 foreign teenagers sat a
special exam for enrolment in Shanghai's Fudan University, only 20 parents
accompanied them to the exam venue.
Email: liushinan@chinadaily.com.cn
(China Daily 06/14/2006 page4)
