My life in China, Part 28- Imitating the master

Some foreign teachers had a challenging time teaching in China, especially those that were former or trained teachers in the US. They got frustrated with many aspects of the Chinese education system without fully considering the cultural differences. What the western world calls cheating was rampant and academic honesty virtually non-existent. I had friends receive essays that were just cut and pasted from major US publications with no attempt to hide the plagiarism. Some of these teachers crusaded to change these practices, forgetting that they were a guest in the country and ultimately would lose that crusade. They were chewed up and spat out bitter and resentful. Although this is a microcosm, could there be something to learn to apply to US/ China relations? Perhaps. 

Thankfully, I didn’t have too many of these unpleasant experiences personally. I think this is because of several reasons. For one, I had a basic understanding of the culture, even if I didn’t always approve. Secondly, I realized that Hebei University was a third-tier university and that many of these students had a challenging path ahead. Three, I wasn’t a trained teacher with years of practice, and thus, was willing to adapt. Four, I had an insider’s view from my wife. Lastly, I was just a young and recent college grad who wanted to learn as much from my students as they would learn from me and had no presumptions of superiority just because I could speak English natively. For the “best” of us native English speakers, this presumption can sometimes be a problem. As I was trying to learn Chinese at the time, which was incredibly humbling, I certainly could relate to my students’ frustrations. These crucial differences are why I think I found the experience so enriching rather than a failure.

And I saw lots of failures. Some of my peers got tired, frustrated, jaded, and perhaps even a bit ethnocentric. Some got into significant disagreements with their students and University administration. I can understand their feelings and knew that ultimately they meant well. They saw an educational system and an academic integrity mythos juxtaposed to their own and tried to “fix” the discord. When these young teachers witnessed their students copying essays and other behaviors considered cheating, they gave the students failing grades. When the administration then changed these grades, I can see why that would rub the teachers the wrong way. At the time, I probably agreed with their discontent. But over the years, I began to realize that many can misconstrue differences for deficiencies, and this misunderstanding leads to many of the issues we see in the world today. 

In my first semester of teaching, I played a Western teacher’s role as this is what I knew. I had lesson plans, assignments, tests, homework, and grades. I did all this because I thought, as a teacher, that was what I was supposed to do. At the end of the semester, I read hundreds of final essays and sat through a multitude of final verbal presentations. I then calculated the grades and had them all ready to go. I had taught about 200 students that semester, so this was a bit of work, and I was pretty proud of my attempt at being a “real” teacher. But, no one ever asked for my grades. Hebei University didn’t necessarily want a “real” teacher, especially for the students I was teaching. I then slowly began to realize that no one cared about my opinions at all. My sole purpose was to be a western face that spoke native English for my students, most of which were business management graduate students who may or may not work for some joint venture in the future. I was an interaction and a tool, but indeed not a judge. My whole time teaching in China, four semesters, various part-time jobs, and quite literally over a thousand students, I was never asked for a single grade.

Now, I consider myself a reasonably quick learner. After going through all that work the first semester for a list of numbers that ended up in the trash, I certainly wasn’t going to go through that effort again, and as I was not a “real” teacher, I didn’t care to be frank. So I adjusted. I stopped with the homework, the lesson plans, the exams, and the essays and focused on the language interactions. Chinese teachers could easily teach vocabulary, grammar, and a bit of composition, but what they couldn’t do particularly well is hold a conversation and get their students to use the language in a real-life setting. So that’s what I did. I got from behind the podium and stepped down from the platform, and joined my students at their level. Then, I got them talking in a no judgment, no stress, and no grading zone. The result? Everyone seemed happy with the arrangement, and my students learned to open their mouths and use the language. Was I a good teacher? No, I don’t think so, but at least I got my students speaking. What use is a language if you don’t use it? 

As my wife and I taught in the same department, she validated my assumptions. Her department head hired me because they wanted this type of interaction. For graduate students especially, it wasn’t in the school’s best interest for them to fail or get bad grades, and by this point, we foreigners had a reputation of giving bad grades. I was just a venue for those who had already taken multiple English courses in their life to practice and try out their English language, which for many, was essentially theory up until this point. I served as a model for them as they imitated the “master.”  

Thus, we come to a critical point in Chinese culture—the concept of learning by imitation. Some believe that the propensity for imitation in Chinese culture stems from the language. As I discuss here, because the Chinese written language is not an alphabet comprised of symbolic representations of sounds, you learn Chinese through imitation and memorization. China is certainly not the only place where you see memorization, but it is on a whole other level there. Think about how difficult it is to get a child to learn their ABCs, coming in at a whopping 24 letters. Imagine if you need to get your child to memorize 2,000 characters, which is the amount you need to know to be considered fluent in the Chinese language.  

Another example is historical. In dynastic times, the government tested civil servants on their mastery of Confucian teachings and their ability to memorize volumes of ancient texts. Having the gall to include too much of your own thoughts and ideas, especially when young, was an insult to the masters and an affront to modesty. It is not uncommon in China for scholarly writings to be word-for-word copies of someone else’s work. It is not maliciousness or even laziness. It is the demonstration that you know the concepts from the masters and is often a form of respect. Sometimes, it may have been written verbatim by memory. You may think in your Western brain that they should still give credit. But being a collectivist culture, the notion of having ownership of an idea is incredibly foreign to the Chinese, especially if the idea is for the benefit of the whole. If you pause for a moment and think about it, owning an idea can sometimes be a crazy concept. In the west, we take it so far that it’s frowned upon even to plagiarize yourself. 

Then, we have the ever-present competition of Chinese society which breeds the notion of doing anything possible to succeed. Yes, competition can be fierce in the US, but imagine if you increased the population by four and compressed that into a fraction of the space with limited resources on top. For many Chinese, especially those in a tier-three school in a little industrial city, the high morals of plagiarism and academic integrity don’t matter that much. They are fighting for true survival. You mean to tell me that if you were in that situation, you wouldn’t do a little copying or looking at your neighbor’s paper if it meant the difference between getting a decent job or working in a sweatshop?  

Lastly, if we then throw in the Chinese Communist Party’s fear of free thought and critical thinking, we start to see why this difference continues to exist even if it conflicts with much of the world’s practice. Was it China’s culture that grasped onto Communism, or was it Communism that influences the culture? I don’t know. Much more intelligent people than me have struggled with that question, but any way you look at it, there is undoubtedly a stigma against asking too many questions and not following the path set by the whole. If the CCP had their way, they would have a country of mute automatons. 

Is there room for change? Absolutely. We can understand cultural differences, but China still needs to obey international norms. Imitating the master when it comes to things like the intellectual property of other countries, especially things that would give them an unfair advantage economically or militarily, could lead to some unsavory conflict. If you look at the reasons I give above in academics, they are the same reasons that have led to clashes with other nations like the US. 

So what is the answer? Draw a line in the sand and enforce our ways? Or, do we pause for a moment, look at the whys, and adapt. Maybe we should move from behind the podium, step down from the stage and have a dialogue as friends and equals. If I know anything about Chinese culture, it’s the importance of building a relationship if you want any real success. In this vein, next week, we will discuss the concept of guanxi. What’s that you ask? Be sure to check back next week to find out! 

Cheers!