Opinion - News Analysis

Across the Himalayas, to skip the rigours of school

When the Chinese Ministry of Education announced an experiment a few years ago that envisaged doing away with homework for primary school students, it did not invite the expected jubilation. Instead, tens of thousands of parents voiced their anxiety regarding the potentially deleterious impact such a step would have on their children’s prospects.

In China, the traditional Confucian emphasis on education as a path to prosperity, combined with rising affluence and the country’s one-child-policy means an almost unbearable burden on school children to achieve ever higher scores in a seemingly endless series of examinations.

The trauma is as grave for parents who focus all their energies and resources on the single child they are allowed by law to have, as it is for the child. The ultimate aim of the united efforts of both parents and children is success in the university entrance examinations, or gaokao. This annual exercise sees some 10 million hopeful sit for the tests but only around half the number make it.

Without a university degree the chances of securing any but the lowliest of jobs are slim. The pressure on students, however, begins years before they are of university-going age: it predates even their primary school years.

“To have a chance at passing the gaokao, you must get into the best primary schools, and once there you must score very high to have a chance to go to a good middle school,” explains Fang Chong, a Beijing-based intellectual property rights lawyer and mother of a 13-year-old. She recalls how her son, You Jin, had to sit for a series of oral and written examinations at the age of six to gain admission to the Number 1 Zhonguancun primary school, one of the better regarded primary schools in the capital city.

He passed the examinations and the parents then had to pay an RMB 30,000 ($4,200) “entry fee” on top of the hefty regular charges of the school.

“Our son became very unhappy,” continues You Bo, You Jin’s father, a top executive at an American petroleum company. “He was in school every day from 7 a.m. to 5p.m. He came home, ate dinner and then had at least another two hours of homework to get through. The kid was getting stressed and he put on a lot weight.”

“He was never free. At weekends we had to give him extra English classes. And the worst part was that this was only primary school. Middle school would be even more pressure,” Ms. Fang picks up the thread.

Worried for their son’s health, Mr. You and Ms. Fang took a decision that is becoming increasingly common amongst Chinese parents who want their kids to escape the rigours of the gaokao-oriented educational system and are wealthy enough. They decided to send You Jin to a boarding school abroad.

What was unusual in their case, however, was that rather than picking a school in the usual preferred destinations for China’s elite, such as the United States, Britain or Singapore, Mr. You and Ms. Fang chose India.

You Jin has already spent a year in Sagar School, a co-educational boarding school in Rajasthan’s Alwar district. He has been so positive in his feedback on the experience that several of the You family’s friends and relatives have also enrolled their children in the same school. There are currently five Chinese children studying in Alwar.

“Well, you could say our friends were surprised when they heard that India was our choice. The surprise was followed by curiosity and a lot of questions,” smiles Mr. You.

The You family’s unusual decision can be traced also to the fact that Ms. Fang’s law firm had partnered with Remfry and Sagar, an Indian intellectual property rights firm, for several years.

Ms. Fang was thus familiar with India, a country she had visited several times since 2001. Sagar School was founded in 2000 by Dr. V. Sagar, the head of Remfry and Sagar, and Ms. Fang had visited the school a couple of years ago. She liked what she saw.

The school insisted on small class sizes with a high teacher-student ratio and emphasised sports and extra curricular activities as much as academic work. Classes were in English and students pursued the CBSE system or the International Baccalaureate qualification.

“What I really liked about the Indian system was that unlike some Western countries, the teachers and the curriculum were quite strict. But although there was some pressure on students there wasn’t too much pressure. It was a good balance,” explains Ms. Fang.

“Also we liked the fact that India, like China, is a developing country,” adds Mr. You. “We don’t want things for You Jin to be too easy too soon in life. If he were in the U.S. he’d get easily spoiled and I doubt he’d be able to adjust back to China after being in the West.”

Asked if there are no schools in China comparable to Sagar , Mr. You replies in the negative. He explains that China does have a handful of elite, private schools, locally nicknamed “Noble Schools.” However, not only do they have an exorbitant price tag, but their reputation is dubious at best.

“In China they are seen as being only for the super-rich. No ethics are taught here and the focus of these Noble Schools is not on learning but on showing off,” he explains.

Yu Xiang is Ms. Fang’s brother and an Associate Professor at the China University of Geosciences. His daughter Yu Xin Tian has also been admitted to Sagar. Joining in the conversation Mr. Yu says the two main reasons behind his choice of India for his daughter were affordability and English language skills.

Like the You family, Mr. Yu is disparaging of China’s examination-oriented public education system. He was thus glad for an opportunity to send Yu Xin Tian abroad. Also, while a boarding school in the U.S. costs $20,000-30,000 a year, Mr. Yu pays only some $9,000 a year all inclusive for the school in India.

Another reason for sending his daughter abroad, Mr. Yu continues, is to get her to be fluent in English, which will be a real advantage for her future career. “Even in Noble Schools in China, the kids’ English is rarely good. But in India Yu Xin Tian’s English has already improved rapidly in a short while,” he beams.

Both Yu Xin Tian and You Jin are developing Indian accents when they speak English, a fact that causes some mirth amongst the families. They are also learning Hindi as a second language.

“I attended morning assembly at the Sagar School last year and what really struck me was the speech by the teacher. It was about values, and what he said was that “money can buy medicine but not health; a house but not a home,” recalls You Bo.

“I liked this attitude in Indian culture. Unfortunately in China today, we worship the material.”

You Jin’s father adds that in the year his son has been in school in India he has gained height and lost weight. “He’s happier, healthier and not so fat,” Mr. You concludes.

Given the rigours of the gaokao, one thing that is certain is that it is unlikely that students like You Jin and Yu Xin Tian would be able to pass the examination, having skipped the gruelling years-long training it requires. Both the You and Yu families have accepted this reality.

“It is impossible for You Jin now to come back and go to university in China. We would like him to go to college in the West or maybe in Hong Kong where the system is different,” explains Ms. Fang.

As she talks, her mobile phone rings. It is You Jin calling from India.

It has not been all smooth sailing for Chinese children in India, however. They have struggled with the language and the food.

“You Jin often complains that he misses Chinese food and it is tough for him to cope with the English,” says Ms. Fang. “But for all his complaints, if I suggest that he comes back to school in China, he says, ‘No way!’”

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