The Chinese Know Better

As we prepare to resume in-person school, the traditionalist alarmists are cranking up the learning loss machine.  Even the laudable proposals for universal pre-school are using the need to compete with the Chinese as justification.  It is amusing, in a ironic sense, that Chinese educators are longing to move away from the practices that so many American politicians and policy-makers wish to emulate: standardization, early academic work, drilling on skills. memorization, testing and “high expectations.”

A few years ago I had several experiences that revealed this counter-intuitive trend. A group of early childhood educators from China were sent by their government to explore how American schools, particularly progressive schools, design programs for early childhood. During their visit to Calhoun their hunger for a more human, humane and developmentally appropriate approach was palpable. They toured our open, joyful spaces with great curiosity and an hour-long meeting in my office revealed their great interest in developing play-based, progressive practices in their Chinese schools.

Later in the year I was invited to speak about progressive education to 30 Chinese university students visiting the United States. They were apparently among the best of the best, thus selected for this program. I recounted the experience in a blog post:

I entered the NYU classroom to a respectful round of applause. The clapping ended abruptly and there I stood, staring at 30 expressionless faces, young women and men sitting at desks in neat rows, all dressed similarly. The casual banter I usually use to relax a group was like pulling teeth. I finally drew a forced smile or two and learned that this was the first visit to the United States for all of them.

A progressive approach to education is hard enough to explain to a group of Manhattan parents. Here, I thought, language and cultural barriers would make my philosophical, neurobiological, psychological and educational musings sound like utter gibberish. (Which is also how many Americans hear it too!)

But I forged earnestly ahead, as I couldn’t think of anything better to present that wouldn’t be equally opaque. I talked about Dewey, Froebel, Pestalozzi, Montessori, John Holt and Howard Gardner. I raged against rote learning, cited the abuse of long hours of tedious homework, railed against No Child Left Behind, pointed out that grade-level expectations are crazy when children are not level, argued that humans learn best through experience, ranted about the importance of play. I tried to moderate my cadence to meet their language skills, whatever they were. Now and then I would interject, “Are you understanding this?” and receive a very tentative nod here and there.

I rather critically, apologetically and respectfully alluded to what I believed to be problems with the Chinese system. A nod here and there. I acknowledged that I was free to criticize China and they might be less so. Only one nod. Finally, when I emphasized a point by dancing like a fool, I got a few wide smiles. By the 40-minute mark the room was noticeably looser.

Just short of the hour limit, I opened the room to questions, fairly sure there would be few or none. A hand went up.

As with all subsequent questioners, this young man rose respectfully to his feet. “I completely support everything you’ve said, but are these things possible in the larger classes that are necessary in China?” Whew, I thought, this guy really was listening and listening well.

“As you said, Mr. Nelson, the Chinese system shuts off opportunity for many children who don’t do well on tests in early years. What can we do to keep dreams alive for children who lose hope at 11 or 12?”

“If I were appointed Minister of Education for China tomorrow, what would you suggest as the very first thing I should do?”

“I very much support progressive education, but we have a long cultural history that makes it difficult to make such change.”

At about this time I reminded them that my school uses first names and they should call me Steve. The next questioner blushed, giggled nervously and started, “Steve … “This small shift transformed the room. Questions were delivered with warmth and trust. Smiles abounded.

Space precludes a full description of the 45 minutes that followed, but it was simply remarkable. They had a very deep understanding of the severe limits and inequity of the very system within which they had succeeded. It could have lasted hours longer. When I finally got ready to leave there were the typical ceremonial pictures. All the formality was gone. I got several hugs.

As I left, a chorus of 30 liberated voices shouted, “’Bye Steve!!” That afternoon may have been the first time any of them called a “teacher” by first name.  Just before I turned down the hall to the elevator, the young man who had been my first smile of the day grabbed my elbow. “I must tell you something.”

“Yes?” I asked.

“I have one very important wish. I want to be 3 years-old again and start over in a progressive school like yours.”

I don’t delude myself into thinking that my lovely encounter with 30 Chinese university students portends a seismic shift in Chinese policy, but it is a clear indication of the universal desire for real, human, humane – yes, progressive – education, even among those who can only dream about starting over.

Maybe we should try it.