刘云杉
【摘要】：本文对“做题家”的群体特征进行剖析，探讨当代中国青少年在教育体制、家庭结构、社会文化的多重规训下所面临的成长困境。以寻求 “标准答案” 为核心的应试教育遮蔽了学生的主体经验，使学习沦为形式化的解题操练而非真实的世界探索;家庭教育中父母对子女的高期待、高控制，在一定程度上剥夺了孩子的可塑性与依赖性，造成了 “独子” 的孤独与关系的缺位;过度的自我掌控和目标导向则不可避免地走向抽象化、自我封闭与世界退隐。当下的自我与具体的生活被 “已知的过去” 和 “预设的未来” 所挤压、吞噬，学生普遍陷于“二手时间”的困境中，在被动学习中失去了与世界、他人乃至自我的真实联系。论文呼吁应重建行动与经验基础，使知识回归生命场景，在实践中唤回学生的现实感与主体性，从而走出困境、实现真正的个体成长。
【关键词】：二手时间 做题家 成长之困
https://doi.org/10.64053/TPZS1698
一、“做题家”： “现在” 的缺席
“我是谁？是小镇做题家，是应试教育的佼佼者，是高考制度下的幸运儿。十二年的学习经历唯一教会我的，是面对一张张试卷，一道道题目时，如何得到分数最高的答案。一张卷子甚至刷十遍，掌握所有的知识点，花 100 个小时来做与花 2 个小时做，效果是完全不一样的。” 2
这是 “做题家” 的由来。在世界与词语之间（ world and words ），词语遮蔽了世界；在已知与未知之间，已知驱逐了未知；在过去、现在与未来之间，现在缺席了。
“我们的语文老师给大家看过一个印度裔科学家的 TED 演讲，核心要义是说 ‘凡是标准化考试必然有标准答案’。因此，哪怕是主观题我们都必须对着参考答案，找自己和标准答案的差距。” “ ‘寻找标准答案’ 是我在高考以前的人生阶段里最主要的矛盾，为此我可以从早上7点端坐到晚上11点，在做题、总结和反思的流程中无限循环。”
“做题家” 的本质是以符号为其特征，学习且掌握自己所未知、却是他人所已知、人类所已知的内容，但学习者终究是要回到自己的经验与生活之中，直面自己的真实处境，遭遇自己的问题（ problem ）。这时，“已知” 才能活化为方法，或者工具，“已知” 也才由此进入学习者的世界，与他发生切实的关联，获得了意义： “已知” 成为一个行动者头脑中的 “坐标”，探险者手里的 “地图”。
“做题家” 的养成是以 “解题” 替代了 “解决问题”，他不是将脚踩在土地上，开始真正的行走；我们在设身处地想，一个孩子是怎么进入世界的？他一定用他的身体，这是他最原初、忠实可靠、也最灵敏的探究器官，他要四处触摸，他要东张西望，他还会察言观色，他高兴了会咿呀地说和笑，这是他最初的表达；他饿了，不舒服了，会哭、会闹，这是他的要求。他是带着他的身体、情感和当下每一刻具体的生命需求和流动的生命感受来到世界，也来到学校。
做题家置身于 “知识化的学校”，准确地说学校教育的知识化，一个具体的、活的、不断生成、展现的成长过程变成了单维度的、封闭的 “已知” 轨道中重复转圈。纸上谈兵地熟记地图，或者在头脑中不断地演练，却不让他真正地走出去，哪怕撒一下欢，放飞一下。今天的学校不再是原初意涵的闲暇所在，而是用一套绩效指标（ KPI ）将制度的基因植入普通的人性之中。在效率导向下，给了封闭的题型、精炼的方法，却没有了真实的内容；这正如语法修辞中，及物动词却缺了宾语，成了空洞的动作，构成了动作的空转，如同训练上臂二头肌一样，这是新的形式训练说。没有了真实的生活，没有了内容的滋养，本应充满增长的学习成了苦役，学习过程充斥着反复且单调的操练；精神昂扬的学习也成贱役，为了达到一个外在的目的而做自己并不感兴趣的事情。孩子的成长有他天然的资源，譬如兴趣，这是连接活泼的心智与外在事物的中介，将心智的热情与外部的事、物之间形成能量的沟通与有机的循环，这一过程即是直接的、朴素的，也是自足的、富有生机的。思维的发展，不是外在材料的强行植入，哪怕是高阶的思维体操课，只有在做事中，在行动中，思维才有了力量和生气 —— 行是知之始。只有行与知合一，气血才能融通，情志才能昂扬，精神也才抖擞。这是知识减负的要害，不是简单的地减去知识的量，而是要以行动与经验成为知识的根基，成为源头活水。
下面这段是一个学生回溯她成长中的困惑，既是与父母的对话，也是与自己的对话：
“我为什么学习？”
“为了认识世界，理解自己。 ”
“那我现在做的事情，是在认识世界，理解自己吗？ ”
“好像不是，我在上课、做题，这个过程或许可以帮助认识一部分世界，理解一部分自己。但是主要任务是做出正确的答案，目标是获得一个较高的分数，其他的可以排在后面。”
“（ 可是，这些 ）为什么排在后面？为什么不多花时间认识世界，理解自己，如果你认为这是学习的根本目的？ ”
“因为我应该先做好题，考高分，这样才可以上一个比较好的大学，然后…… ”
“然后呢，你要做什么？”
“咱能先考上大学再说么……”
这时，用延迟满足来冷淡他与事物之间的热情，也滋生了他非分的欲念，一个靠本来力量就能自足、能成长的孩子，就这样被扭曲了。欲念成了操控学习者的手段，它置换了学习的目标又不给学习者直接且即时的满足，他朴素的热情淡下去了，虚妄的欲念之火却炙烤着他。他的世界从神秘的万物转向了驯兽场，他如同一头幼狮，在驯兽师的冷血训练中，习得一套技艺，这套技艺既不是符合天性的，也不为幼狮正当地捕获食物，而是为了在竞赛中战胜同类，准确地说是羞辱同类，获得奖赏，在体系中拾级而上。他活成了 “别人家的孩子”，或者渴望成为 “别人家的孩子”，他既趾高气昂与脆弱空洞。成功学像瘟疫一样蔓延。
在过去、现在与未来的时间链条上，学生所拥有的是现在，他应该活在现在，可是，他的现在，他的当下是如何“熬过去”、“撑下去”？
“做题家常在 ‘计时做题’：多数人不仅活在一种毫无变化的规律生活之中，并且活在一种秒表般的精确之中。”
为什么一方面活在时间的精确与紧迫之中，另一面拖延症又大面积地蔓延？因为手头的事与心中的梦是切断的，手头的事是外在强加，心中的梦常是虚妄且碎片的，未来很美，但未来很远；现在很重要，但现在很苦；用光鲜但空洞的未来定义现在，现在徒具投资的价值，在熬过的 “每一天” 中，没有了喜爱的事，没有值得珍惜的关系，也就没有了自主的动力。如何能把未来化成“胸前一尺”，变成可以着手去做事？因为未来不是虚妄的设计与选择，未来是从现在走出来的，是从现在的情势中生发出来，未来植根于现在，也应走入现在。
过去如何进入他的世界？作为 “已知”，它是方法、工具与坐标，但它只能是“手中活”的工具箱，“眼前事” 的参照，“心中梦”的指南针，它不是作为教条与圣经，不是用一个静态的、完成了体系禁锢或限制着学生。若此，过去的 “已知” 吞噬了当下的所感与所知，他的头脑早已成为别人知识的跑马场。
夸美纽斯在《 大教学论 》中生动地指出：
“学校没有教过它们的学生去发展他们的心灵……如同 ‘伊索寓言’ 上面的乌鸦一样，用其他鸟儿的羽毛去装饰自己，学校没有耐心去开发潜伏在学生身上的知识的泉源，而用从别处取来的水去灌溉他们…… 结果是，大多数人都没有知识，而只有从不同作家搜索得来的引语、文句和见解，这样去把他们的知识镶补起来，像一张镶补成功的被褥一样。……真是一群奴才相的家伙，他们习于负载不属于他们自己的负载。” 3
学生在反思：为什么 “做题家” 常能踩点得分，看似逻辑清晰，又常不知所云？
“在文科的考试中，客观的选择题可以通过大量的刷题，熟悉易错点解决。材料题及主观题，为了追求 ‘有区分度’ 以及判卷的效率，答题可以拆分为：美观性、条理性、知识理解能力，关键词记忆能力几点。上述能力中，仅有知识理解能力这一占比较小的部分需要理性思考。用一套工具逻辑来解析材料，组织答案，联系知识点，用这样一连串死板的能力来对付这门学科，无怪乎学起来并无意义感和收获感。”
同样，当今高考作文训练的风气 —— “积累大量的名人名言和素材，一般的名人名言还不行，最好是陌生化、高深的那种，以提升整篇文章的 ‘格调’ ”。一篇高分作文的实质，很可能就是 “镶补成功的被褥”。更可笑的是，大部分的名句都是为了用而用的（ 毕竟背名句也是很累的，自然要多次利用 ），因此常常很不贴切，貌合神离，扭曲了原意。”
采攫 “鸟儿的羽毛” 来装饰自己，而不是走入古人的内心与经验，以今人之心通古人之心，人同此心，心同此理，相同的根基是文化之流与经验实践。从现在走入过去，过去的人文之光开启了精神疆域；典范人格启示了不同的生命样式。可是，如果没有了生活之流，没有了当下鲜活的经验，过去是死的，它被供奉起来；如果过去吞噬了现在，没有了当下性，在一个已经完成了的世界，他如何参与其间呢？他的心智是旁观的，甚至是冷漠的。杜威在《 艺术即经验 》中阐述：
“世界是完成了的，结束了的，没有中途停止与危机的痕迹，不提供任何做出决定的机会。在一切都已经完成了之处，没有完满。” 4
未来根植于 “未” ：“未完成”、“未定义”，换一个角度，是有待定义，有待完成，这是生长性与可塑性；生长来自当下的缝隙，所面对的困难，所运用的方法，所调动的能量，所创造的条件，所汇聚的气势。智力是一个副词，来自于对手中事的专注的程度，来自于对心中光的持久追逐。未来是从现在长出来，如同溪流一样，从各种岩石缝、泥土中钻出来，再随地势、山形，时隐时现，成地下河，成山中涧，成天下溪。未来不是一个头脑中空洞的蓝图，成长不是几个备选的赛道，或者按照想象的人设，打造自己，经营形象。成长是用自己的脚，在无路之中走出自己的路。
“现在” 既被典当给了 “过去”，又被预支给了未来，在过去与未来之间，现在却是缺席的，这是一个 “二手时间”5 。在一个已经完成了的世界中，在缺失了时间的变动与生长的节律的二手时间中，睡与醒没有区别。
诡异之处恰在于，心智一方面是沉睡的，另一方面又是敏感且精明的，这沉睡与敏感是如何拧巴地纠结在一起？他又如何建立与他的身边、周遭的关系呢？
二、“独子”： “关系” 的缺位
一个孩子是如何走入这个世界的？孩子是柔弱的，他依赖于身边的人，以及和他切实相关的身体所需；世界又是如何涌入孩子的心中？杜威考察儿童， “儿童具有头等社交能力。儿童具有灵活和敏感的能力，对他们周围的人的态度和行为，都同情地产生感应，很少成年人能把这种能力保持下来。” 6
孩子有依赖性，“这依赖性是一种力量而不是软弱，它包含相互依赖的意思”，它向缔造可靠的、可信的、温暖的关系开放。孩子有可塑性，“这可塑性不同于蜡或油灰，完全是由外力挤压成型，人的可塑性含有不因受外来压力就改变形式的一种能力。” 7 人的可塑性是一种柔韧的弹性，既在于对环境的适应，也在于对自我的坚守，在于自我与环境之间的周旋平衡。可塑性来源于经验中，从经验中获得对付日后情境中的困难的能力。
一位来自北京的学生回溯：
“从小管我的是母亲，母亲自然难逃焦虑，随波逐流成了一名 ‘海淀妈妈’ 。在我的童年，有关学习的挫折解决的太早，而有关人生的挫折来的太晚。小时候背诵诗歌课文遇到困难，抑或是某一学科表现不佳，母亲都会尽心尽力的分享经验，寻找老师，及时提供帮助。日常事务上的困难，能大包大揽便大包大揽；我的母亲，把管教当作日常，把自由当作恩准，关怀和陪伴在其中缺位。”
“海淀妈妈” 是中国父母的典型，其后的动力是一代代中国人 “理想自我” 与“现实自我”的冲突，是 “现在” 与 “未来” 的较劲：谁的人生不跌跟头？谁在机运面前没有错过与追悔，“再来一次！” 的冲动转换成生育子女的实践，“未来” 因而有了具体的切近的 “将来” —— 切实的即将到来。
费孝通对此体察很细致：“子女既常被父母视作是自我的一部分，……于是一个被现实所蹂躏过的自我，在这里却找到了再来一次的具体机会。每个父母多少都会在子女身上矫正他过去的所有缺点。他常小心提防使自己不幸的遭遇不致在他的第二生命中重现。“ 8 这是人之常情，也是家之常态。费孝通对中国家长有生动的描写，他们既慈亦严，“长辈们捻着胡须，容忍自己的过失，而把责任轻轻地交卸到下一代去。你们得好好干！”9
在血缘和责任的传承中，亲子虽是一体，世代之间却难免有隔膜：“子女怎么看呢？父母把子女看作自我的一部分，子女是否也这样呢？父母把理想交卸给了子女，而且有权来监视他们子女的行为，子女是否愿意接受父母所责成他们的理想呢？” 10
这就涉及到亲子关系中一组关系： “共生” 与“契洽”。费先生引用帕克的这对概念来揭示亲子关系的复杂性。共生（ Symbiosis ）是生物界普遍存在的现象，两种动物互相因为对方的生存而得到利益，譬如蚂蚁和蚜虫的关系，蚂蚁并没有承认蚜虫的人格，更不必管蚜虫的喜怒哀乐，它保护蚜虫，衔着蚜虫去找适宜的地方，为的是它自己的利益，蚜虫是它的傀儡；蚜虫也如此，它给蚂蚁一些分泌的甜汁吃，可以得到一些卫兵和轿夫，相互利用，共存共生。人类有另一种关系，Consensus ( 契洽 )，他们愿意牺牲一些自己的利益来成全别人的意志，成全而非利用，这才发生道德，而不是利害。这也才有忠恕之道，也才有社会和团结。11
亲子之间既有生物性又有社会性，共生与契洽，两者交错且渐渐演变，十足的忠恕之道只存在于乌托邦里。今天的中国，既有传统向现代的转型，又有社会结构的变动，还有代际之间生活方式与生活风格的断裂，“亲子一体” 与 “世代间的隔膜” 面临更大的困难。
传统中国的教育是把生命的 “种子埋在地里” 12 ，把个体的生命安置在代与代之间，上以事宗庙，下以继后世，成为社会继替中的一环。育、养与教，身、心、灵，三者合一，由身体而情感再至头脑，环环相序，逐次展化。为人父母，为人子女，上所行，下所效，多在日用伦常之中，耳濡目染。传统中国人讲究的是对外有 “伦” —— 人人相处之道，对内有 “节” —— 对自我的约束，处世做人要害在于分寸拿捏。这里的 “伦” 并非仅仅是共时性的，还包括历时性，不仅处理同一个空间中同代人的迎来送往，也处理历时性中与祖先与后代的继往开来。这意味着，传统社会从来不会把人理解成为一个单独的个体，而理解成在过去与未来相传承的某种社会关系之中的 “整个的人”。 13
在乡土社会，学是与陌生的事物的最初的接触，学的方法是“习”，习是反复地做，靠时间中的磨练，使一个人惯于一种新的做法；习也是一种陶冶，学习背后是熟悉，熟悉又是从具体的、多方面和经常的接触中所发生的亲密的感觉。这感觉是无数次小磨擦中陶炼出来的结果。“不亦悦乎” 是描写熟悉后的亲密感觉。 14 这时人与他所身处的环境，周边的人和事，建立起一种既盘根错节又根深叶茂的生命形态。传统中国以家为中心，不强调自主的个体，在家之上有族，有乡，有国；在一个大家庭中能共处，横着一个忍字，竖着一个耐字，孩子对长辈充满恭顺之情。传统中国人的一生，扶老携幼，在事、情、理繁复的操持中，维持着绵密又有韧性的种种关系；他活在关系中，做人做事，有事功，有面子，有声望。
转型期的中国，教育成为阶层跃升的阶梯。苦乐兼备的滋味变成了 “苦中苦”， “人中人” 的现实所寄往的却是 “人上人” 的期待，父母用自己的 “苦中苦” 来托举 “人上人” 的孩子，孩子用 “人上人” 的虚妄来熬过当下的 “苦中苦”，在 “知识改变命运” 诉求中，家庭与社会的教育与成长被局限在狭小的学校的知识传授中，扭曲为同龄人的竞争筛选中， “把生命连根拔出”，方能实现向上流动。
父母认为子女拥有 “无限” 的潜能和 “无限” 的能力，于是拼了命地给予所有的资源试图去诱导和培养，将自己 “无限” 的期望加诸于他们身上，他们承受着无休止的焦虑，辛劳一生，苦口婆心地告诉自己的子女，所有的一切所有的付出都是为了他们的未来和前程，怀着一种无比崇高的责任感和道德感将孩子的教育安排得无比妥帖。
“海淀妈妈” 多是当代中国第一代大学生，他们希望在孩子身上复制自己的成功：用一种严苛的方式去践行他们心中的教育标准，从六岁到十八岁这十二年拉通了去规划孩子的学业，让他们在高考的厮杀里闯出来，进入名校，以为这样就可以改变孩子的命运，这样就是对他们负责。
他们精心设计，高投入与高问责，将孩子置放在一个拔掉一切钉子，看似光鲜的、养料丰沛、却隔开了自然中的天光、冷热；在一个巨大的泡泡中，孩子活成了父母的面子，家庭投资的 KPI，也活成了父母欲念的傀儡。这些高规划、高控制的父母竟相犯下了愚蠢的错误，他们剥夺了生命成长最重要的特征：可塑性。
生命作为一个有机体与周围的事物的同步性不断失去与再次恢复，或者是努力，或者是幸运，经历差异与抵抗，生命本身得到了丰富。裂隙太大，生命体就死亡，太一致，生命体不会受到刺激，不能拥有正常的经验。杜威特别强调： “在直接的经验中，行动、感受和意义是合一的，直接经验来自于自然与人的相互作用，在这种相互作用中，人的能量积聚、释放、抑制、受阻、遂愿。欲望与实现，行动的冲动与这种冲动的抑制，循环往复，周而复始。” 15
在一个设计完好的泡泡中，孩子的生命能量却窒息了。泡泡被照得越亮，里面的生命之火越黯淡，他以冷漠与无感来面对，年轻人中有了倦怠症：
“我这样对着喜欢种花的母亲说，过早地给植物施加肥料只会烧苗，每一个对着父母倾诉压力很大的孩子，都是希望能得到应有的沟通和理解的吧，而不是家长以一种不平等的态度，剥夺了我们在面对压力时对着他们诉苦的权利。或者说他们不觉得我们的压力是压力。久而久之，这种压力和人格上不被重视终究会扭曲一个人的内心，即使我们从来没有察觉过。”
一意托举孩子的父母，在无微不至的照顾中，他们却剥夺了生命成长的第二个重要前提：依赖性。生命独立于环境的自主，不仅是一个假命题，更是一个恶命题，在看似自足与自主之后，是将人的机械化。生命不仅是自主的，也是脆弱的，他对环境的依赖，对关系的依赖，正是成长的动力。
今天的父母，自己扛着责任，把期待托付给子女，而这一期待是实现父母的梦想，这个梦却不是像自己，而是与自己不同，不是留在身边，洒扫应对，润物无声，在熟悉的水域，如鱼得水；而是离巢远行，在陌生的水域中，如鱼离水，“连根拔起” 的生命，在哪儿获得陶冶？
“一啼一笑，彼此相和答；一痛一痒，彼此相体念，是为亲人；亲人，人互喜以所喜者之喜，其喜弥扬；人互悲以所亲者之悲，悲而不伤，心理共鸣。” 16
这是梁漱溟对传统中国文化中亲人的描述，然而，在当下，被托举的孩子，长大后我就成了你，是期待还是回避？是愿望还是噩梦？ “口之于味，有同嗜也；目之于色，有同美也” 17 没有了共同的生活、共同的趣味，亲子之间，情感是不通的，心是隔开的。依恋与抗拒、心疼与鄙夷、分裂的习性让年轻人陷入难以自拔的沮丧，与原生家庭的生活常识、常情、常理如何融入？ “断亲” 出现了。
他们身处一种缺乏关系的关系结构之中。
三、掌控自我：“世界” 的退隐
一个逃离学校，也逃避社会，很难再进入世界的学生这样写道：
“我以为我看过 ‘这个世界’，其实我只不过看过了 ‘世界地图’，看过其他人走过看过这世界后写的 “游记” 而已。课本和考试为我提供了 ‘完全确定、一切都有标准答案，一切都可以在教科书里找到答案’ 的理论世界，我能考第一，在这个理论世界里如鱼得水，不愿也不想走出来。”
他固执地沉溺于理论之中，如同沉溺于游戏之中。他对理论世界有误解，好的理论是根植于生活与经验，有对经验的解释力与错误的包容力。他的 “完全确定”，“标准答案” 不过是一些 “似真” 的概念体系，如同柏拉图在 “洞穴之喻” 所描绘的那些隔开了经验的真实之光，充斥于头脑中的影子而已。他活在一种 “镜像认知” 与 “镜像人生” 之中。
“因为总是存在着唯一的答案，我们没有必要去质疑老师讲出的结论，因而不需要任何额外的努力，就可以直接去相信并且牢记课本上的知识。久而久之，我们便渐渐失去了独立思考的能力，因而也变得害怕不确定的结果，因为不确定的结果，就意味着考试的分数可能会更低，这从心理的条件反射上，给予我们恐惧。”
害怕不确定，进而拒绝真实，真实的玫瑰总有瑕疵，有盛开有衰败，他们只要最饱满的瞬间，他们拒绝了时间，时间中有阴晴圆缺，有机运有变化。他们活在一种 “似真的” —— 一个应从经验中提纯却删除了经验的抽象世界，一个去掉杂质没有瑕疵的虚构世界，他迷恋纯粹与确定，一个抽象的观念世界滋长出来的畸形力量。
这一些又是如何养成的呢？他们的成长中，学校内外盛行的是自主学习的教育理论。在当代的学习理论中，被转译为自我调控学习（ Self-Regulated Learning,SRL )，指由（ 学习者 ）自身发动的持续的有一定导向性的认知、情感、行动的过程，也即学习者设定并调控学习目标，瞄准目标监控、调适认知性和元认知性的过程。
这体现为目标导向，教与学不再是一个未知与世界的打开，而是行为操作主义下的 S-R 反应，快速且准确的反应；学习评价在教学的 “过程-产出模型” （ process-productresearch ）得到充分的运用，教学被视为一个功能主义的系统，教学过程不是一个开放的、创生与丰富的场域，而是一个追究因果关系的、有效的、封闭的功能性管道 —— 这正是目标导向的自我学习的原型。佐藤学批评这一模式无视个体的内部经验，将个体性或整体性分解为可观察的、可量化的均质的指标。它继承了博比特的社会效率主义，以生产工程比喻学习模型（ 目标、成就、评价的模型 ）；继承了泰勒与布卢姆的行为科学的教育研究，以生产性、效率性的工业主义与行为主义为基础，借助系统工程学的技术控制课堂中的教与学过程。18 在目标导向的过程-产出模型中，教与学成为行为工程学，教师成为行为工程师，评价变得极为重要，掌控PDCA 周期成为教师不可或缺的通用能力：Plan 计划 —— Do 实施 —— Check检查、评价 —— Act 改进：预测制订计划，根据该计划展开业务，检查与评价实施结果是否符合计划，改进不符合计划的业务，这样形成一连串的周期。 19
舒尔曼批评：在 “过程-产出模式” 中教学研究中缺乏 3C, 内容（ content ）,认知（ cognition ,）背景（ context ）：不问教学内容的探讨，不问师生的认知与思维，不问课堂的社会背景，仅限于学习目标与教育技术的有效性验证。 20 目标导向的学习忽视了教学的具体性与情境性，假设有一种内生的、抽象的能力或者潜能脱嵌于具体的知识与学科之上。这体现在测试中出现以下转向：由具有强烈文化约束的求知形式的测试（ 具体知识 ）转向抽象而更加公平的强调思维的测试（ 方法与思维 ），出现了成就测试（ 已掌握的知识 ）与能力测试之间存在张力，能力测试假设有一些超越的、非经验化的素质。 21 在美国的学术成就测验（ SATs ）中，很少强调学习内容，大量强调学习方法，在考察能力与思维方法中，知识被稀薄了，知识被弱化了。在测验中，把潜力和已经取得的成就区分开来，假设考生知识贫乏（ 不再深植于文化情境之中 ），多考察方法与思路，譬如词汇考察词汇思维过程，而非思维是否正确，这就出现了思维的过程与思维的内容的分离，抽空了内容的思维只能是操作性的，它需要精神的肤浅性。 22
没有了生活的经验，没有内在的理解，只有形式的正确，常常一本正经地说自己完全不理解的话：
“面对知识，如果只有一个好似 ‘镶补失败的被褥’ 的思维，要么掌握不了，要么以一种错误的、混乱的方式去掌握，要么只会依葫芦画瓢地照搬别人的方法去掌握。长期不顾逻辑地乱贴狗皮膏药，人的思维就可能变得越来越混乱，逻辑感越来越差。很多时候他们只会乱说一气，但实际上不知所云，更别提独到的见解。”
或者长期沉浸于 “似真” 的抽象世界，或者将理论变成教条，或者从形式逻辑出发，简单推论，容易发育出一种极化思维，或者全对，或者全错：
“于是有了无数的 ‘巨婴’，有了自大狂，有了 ‘直男癌’，有了无数大大小小的男权或是女权主义者滥用言论自由在网络平台上重拳出击不顾后果地谩骂嘲讽。”
他活在自己的意见中，而不能直面真实的世界。情感也容易沉浸在梦游中，“完美的主人公、完美的亲情爱情、完美的人生、完美的世界”，情感上他要的是浓度与烈度，思维中要的是纯度，走入他人时，易患 “亲密的专制”，或者完全打开，将他人视为另一个自我，稍不顺意，心生芥蒂，又完全封闭，将他人视为敌人，视为无物。人人相处之中，练习的是明恕之道，知己所短，识人所长，明白自己所长所短，对待他人才能宽恕，宽恕他人，也才能宽恕自己的平常；也才能接纳且走入平常人生。
更有可能，他活在一种麻木且无感之中，他接受着过量的刺激、过量的信息，在当下，过度成为真正的贫困！尤其是过量的信息造成了极强的认知负荷，颗粒度更高、数据更多，细节更高清，可是这些庞大的信息造成能朴素地、直观地把握整体图景变得更难，他的身体与情感跑不过头脑中过量有短暂的信息，他有窒息感；强烈的外部刺激，快速的、过量的信息之流，瞬间一瞥的中断或突如其来的意外感……
个人如何抵御由一种社会技术组织所带来的（ 精神 ）降低或（ 情感 ）磨蚀？一战之前的德国，齐美尔发出这样的疑问。 “都市人发展出一种器官来保护自己不受危险的潮流与那些会令它失去根源的外部环境的危险，他用头脑代替心灵来做出反应，对都市的反应使器官变得麻木不仁、毫无个性。” 23
E-motion，感-动，由感受（ 世界向你涌来 ）而带来的动（ 内心的悸动 ），可是世界不再触及我了，我也不再能触及到外界的世界了，所有的共鸣都静默下来的抑郁状态，外在的一切都死寂苍白，冷淡空洞，连我内心的一切也都沉默麻木了。
从 “自主学习，认识世界 ”转向“ 自我监控，掌控自我” : 在这个被高度掌控的自我面前，世界退隐了，自我也退隐了。他活在一套算法之中，既野心勃勃，又脆弱如傀儡，既被算法所操纵，又操纵算法。他们的世界，分数与 GPA 是流通货币：
“分数成为唯一的认可，做成一件事，做好一件事的成就感，流行的货币是分数与绩点。”
在这个 GPA 所打造的世界中，每个人都有自己的位次，他们变得毫无个性，又高度相似；他们共享一场没有出口竞赛，虽为同道，却相互疏远，彼此厌恶。
“自由选择，选我所选，爱我所爱，可是，我不知道喜欢什么，也没有真正的动力，抛开梯子，去走自己的旷野。”
没有了乐趣，没有所珍惜的，我们常说，如何认识一个人，判断一个人，要察其所安，观其所由。可是，如果既无所安，亦无所由，他的自我也隐退了。
世界与自我，开始了双向退隐。生命与其所身处的环境是有机的，生命置身于一个具体的环境中，它是属己的，是长在一起：
“生命是在一个环境中进行的；不仅仅是在其中，而且是由于它，并与它相互作用 …… 在任何时刻，活的生物都面临来自周围环境的危险，同时在任何时刻，它又必须从周围环境中吸取某物来满足自己的需要。一个生命体的经历与宿命就注定是要与周围的环境，不是以外在的、而是以最为内在的方式作交换。” 24
没有了内在的、有机的能量交流，自我与世界在双向隐退中，又如何相遇呢？二次元流行，戴上面具，打造人设，将世界当舞台，四处打卡。锦衣华服，浓妆艳抹，拿着道具，穿越时空，世界不过是舞台，主角是想象中人设，虚与实无所谓区分。甚至世界都不是舞台，舞台不够空灵，舞台与戏剧有场景的限制，演员之间要互动，与台下的观众也要互动，有需要沉浸的剧情，有要演绎也要服务一个完整的剧情。
他的人生，已经担负不起一个有始有终的剧情。他的人生，不过就是一场游园惊梦。
一个终于有勇气选择休学一年的学生这样写道：
“年轻人的一生之所以充满了谎言，不是因为他太自大，而正因为他太卑微——他总是受他认为‘应该做’的事情左右，而不是去做他真心想做的事。”
“年轻人望着过来人给他画的饼，给他指的路，却忘记了自己也也有双眼，有能力去发现，去看见。”
“世界那么大，我想去看看。以及，我走得太匆忙，需要停一停。”
她停下来，认真地看，相信她能从疑惑中走出“二手时间”，真正走出自己的道路与人生。
1 刘云杉，北京大学教育学院教授，博士生导师，专业领域：教育社会学，高等教育学。
2 作者深耕大学生成长研究多年，文中出现的楷体字内容出自访谈、学生撰写的自传，也有课堂讨论与课程作业。本文重要在阐述观点，学生材料或为问题的提出，或为例证，或推进论述；多为学生其言、其思、其惑，不将其作为个案呈现，故不再呈现其具体的专业、年级与身份，仅以字体和引用加以标识。
3 （捷）夸美纽斯：《大教学论》，傅任敢译，北京：人民教育出版社1984年版，第124页。
4 （美）杜威：《艺术即经验》，高建平译，北京：商务印书馆2010年版，第19页。
5 “二手时间”的概念曾见于诺贝尔文学奖得主、白俄罗斯作家阿列克谢耶维奇创作的同名纪实文学作品“Время Second Hand”，作者有言：“今天的所有想法和所有语言全都来自别人，仿佛是昨天被人穿过的衣服……所有人都在使用别人以前所知、所经历过的东西，所以说是二手时间。”参见（白俄）S. A. 阿列克谢耶维奇：《二手时间》吕宁思译，中信出版社2016年版，译后记。本文用“二手时间”来形容当下大学生被“过去”和“未来”所框限的成长状态，仿佛生活在“二手的”时间当中。
6 （美）杜威：《民主主义与教育》，王承绪译，北京：人民教育出版社，1990年版，第51页。
7 （美）杜威：《民主主义与教育》，王承绪译，北京：人民教育出版社，1990年版，第52页。
8 费孝通：《乡土中国·生育制度》，北京：北京大学出版社1998年版，第202-203页。
9 费孝通：《乡土中国·生育制度》，北京：北京大学出版社1998年版，第203页。
10 费孝通：《乡土中国·生育制度》，北京：北京大学出版社1998年版，第203、205页。
11 费孝通：《乡土中国·生育制度》，北京：北京大学出版社1998年版，第206页。
12 参见林耀华：《金翼》，第二十一章标题和故事的结尾。
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Trapped in “Second-Hand Time”: The Growth Predicament of Contemporary Chinese University Students
Liu Yunshan
Abstract: This article analyzes the group characteristics of the “inveterate exam-taker” (zuòtíjiā), exploring the growth predicament faced by contemporary Chinese youth under the multiple disciplines of the educational system, family structure, and social culture. The exam-oriented education, with its core focus on finding “standard answers,” obscures students’ subjective experiences, reducing learning to a formalistic exercise of solving given problems rather than a genuine exploration of the world. In family education, parents’ high expectations and high control, to some extent, strip children of their plasticity and capacity for dependence, leading to the loneliness of the “only child” and an absence of genuine relationships. Excessive self-control and goal-orientation inevitably lead to abstraction, self-enclosure, and a retreat from the world. The present self and concrete life are squeezed and devoured by the “known past” and the “preset future,” leaving students commonly trapped in the predicament of “second-hand time,” where passive learning causes them to lose their real connection to the world, to others, and even to themselves. This paper calls for the reconstruction of a foundation based on action and experience, to return knowledge to life’s scenarios, and to reawaken students’ sense of reality and agency through practice, thereby enabling them to overcome this predicament and achieve true individual growth.
Keywords: Second-Hand Time, Zuòtíjiā (Inveterate Exam-Taker), Growth Predicament
https://doi.org/10.64053/TPZS1698
I. The “Inveterate Exam-Taker”: The Absence of the “Present”
“Who am I? A small-town exam-taker, a champion of exam-oriented education, a lucky one under the gaokao system. The only thing my twelve years of schooling taught me was how to get the highest score when facing test papers and questions. I would even drill a single test paper ten times. Mastering all the knowledge points by spending 100 hours is completely different from spending 2 hours.” [2]
This gives rise to the “inveterate exam-taker” (zuòtíjiā). Between the world and words, words obscure the world; between the known and the unknown, the known expels the unknown; between the past, present, and future, the present is absent.
“Our language teacher showed us a TED talk by an Indian-American scientist, whose core message was that ‘all standardized tests must have standard answers.’ Therefore, even for subjective questions, we had to compare our answers to the official key and identify the differences.”
“‘Finding the standard answer’ was the central conflict of my life before the gaokao. For this, I could sit from 7 a.m. to 11 p.m., endlessly cycling through the process of doing problems, summarizing, and reflecting.”
Symbols characterize the essence of the zuòtíjiā. They learn and master content that is unknown to them but already known to others and to humanity. Ultimately, however, the learner must return to their own experience and life, confront their real situations, and encounter their own problems.
Only then can the “known” be activated as a method or tool; only then does the “known” enter the learner’s world, establish a tangible connection with them, and acquire meaning. The “known” becomes a “coordinate” in the mind of an actor, a “map” in the hands of an explorer.
The cultivation of the zuòtíjiā replaces “problem-solving” (in a real sense) with “solving given problems” (on paper). They do not plant their feet on the ground and begin a real journey. Let us put ourselves in their shoes: how does a child enter the world? They must use their body—their most primal, reliable, and sensitive organ of inquiry. They touch everything, look around, and observe facial expressions. When happy, they gurgle and laugh—their first expressions. When hungry or uncomfortable, they cry and fuss, expressing their demands. They arrive in the world and at school with their body, emotions, and the concrete needs and fluid feelings of each living moment.
The zuòtíjiā is situated in a “knowledged school,” or more accurately, in the “knowledgization” of school education. A concrete, living, and ever-unfolding process of growth is transformed into repetitive circling on a one-dimensional, closed track of the “known.” They memorize maps on paper or rehearse scenarios in their minds but are never allowed to actually go out, not even to run free for a moment. Today’s school is no longer a place of leisure in its original sense but rather a system that implants its institutional DNA into common human nature through a set of Key Performance Indicators (KPIs). Driven by efficiency, it provides closed-ended question types and refined methods, but without real content. This is like a transitive verb in grammar that lacks its object, resulting in an empty action, a hollow motion, akin to an exercise that only trains the biceps. This is a new form of formal discipline.
Without real life, without the nourishment of content, learning, which should be full of growth, becomes drudgery. The learning process is filled with repetitive and monotonous drills. The spirited endeavor of learning also becomes a menial task, done to achieve an external goal without personal interest. A child’s growth has its natural resources, such as interest, which is the medium connecting a lively mind with external things, creating a circulation of energy and an organic cycle between intellectual passion and the world of objects and affairs. This process is at once direct and straightforward, self-sufficient and vibrant. The development of thinking is not the forced implantation of external materials, not even through high-level mental gymnastics. It is only in doing things, in action, that thinking gains power and vitality—action is the beginning of knowledge. Only when action and knowledge are unified can one’s vitality flow, one’s emotions be uplifted, and one’s spirit be invigorated. This is the crux of reducing the academic burden; it is not simply about cutting the quantity of knowledge but about making action and experience the foundation of knowledge, its living source.
The following is a student’s reflection on their confusion during their growth, a dialogue with both their parents and themself:
Student: “Why do I study?”
Parent:“To understand the world and yourself.”
Student:“Then are the things I’m doing now helping me understand the world and myself?”
Parent: “It seems not. I’m attending classes and doing problems. This process might help in understanding a part of the world and a part of myself. But the main task is to get the correct answer, the goal is to get a high score, and everything else can come later.”
Student:“(But) why does it come later? Why not spend more time understanding the world and yourself, if you believe that is the fundamental purpose of learning?”
Parent:“Because I should first be good at solving problems and getting high scores, so I can get into a better university, and then…”
Student: “And then what? What do you want to do?”
Parent:“Can we just focus on getting into university first?”
At this point, delayed gratification is used to cool their passion for things, while also breeding inordinate desires. A child who could have grown self-sufficiently on their own strength is thus distorted. Desire becomes a means of manipulating the learner; it replaces the goal of learning, yet offers no direct or immediate satisfaction. Their simple passion fades, while they are scorched by the flames of empty ambition. Their world shifts from one of mysterious wonders to a circus ring for trained animals. Like a young lion, they learn a set of skills through the cold-blooded training of a beast-tamer. These skills are neither in line with their nature nor for the legitimate purpose of hunting food, but for defeating—or more accurately, humiliating—their peers in competition to win rewards and climb the ladder of the system. They become “that other family’s child” or aspire to be one, simultaneously arrogant and fragilely empty. The gospel of success spreads like a plague.
On the timeline of past, present, and future, what the student possesses is the present. They should be living in the present. Yet, how is their present, their “now,” to be “endured” or “gotten through”?
“The inveterate exam-taker often ‘times their practice.’ Most not only live a monotonously regular life but also one of an almost stopwatch-like precision.”
Why, on the one hand, do they live with temporal precision and urgency, while on the other, procrastination is so rampant? Because the task at hand is disconnected from the dream in their heart. The task at hand is externally imposed; the dream is often illusory and fragmented. The future is beautiful, but the future is distant; the present is important, but the present is bitter. When the present is defined by a glamorous but hollow future, it is reduced to mere investment value. In each “day” that is endured, there are no beloved activities, no cherished relationships, and thus no autonomous motivation. How can the future be brought into the “here and now,” transformed into something one can start working on? Because the future is not an empty design or choice; the future emerges from the present, grows out of the current situation. The future is rooted in the present and should enter the present.
How does the past enter their world? As the “known,” it serves as a method, tool, and coordinate. But it can only be a toolbox for the “task at hand,” a reference for the “matter before them,” a compass for the “dream in their heart.” It should not be a dogma or a bible, a static, completed system that confines or restricts the student. If it is, the “known” of the past devours the feelings and knowledge of the present. Their mind have long become a racetrack for others’ knowledge.
Comenius, in The Great Didactic, vividly points out:
“Schools have failed to teach their students to develop their own minds… like the crow in Aesop’s Fable, they adorn themselves with the feathers of other birds. Schools have no patience to develop the founts of knowledge that lie dormant in the students, but water them with water drawn from other sources… The result is that the majority of people have no knowledge, but only a collection of quotations, sentences, and opinions, gleaned from various authors, with which they patch together their learning, like a successfully patched-up quilt…. They are a servile lot, accustomed to carrying burdens that are not their own.” [3]
A student reflects: Why is it that the zuòtíjiā can often score points precisely and seem logically clear, yet frequently speak nonsense?
“In humanities exams, the objective multiple-choice questions can be solved by drilling numerous problems and familiarizing oneself with common pitfalls. For material-based and subjective questions, in the pursuit of ‘differentiation’ and grading efficiency, the answering process can be broken down into several components: aesthetic presentation, organization, knowledge comprehension, and keyword memorization. Among these, only knowledge comprehension, which accounts for a small proportion, requires rational thought. Using a utilitarian logic to analyze materials, organize answers, and connect knowledge points—using such a string of rigid skills to tackle the subject—it’s no wonder that learning it feels meaningless and unrewarding.”
Similarly, consider the current trend in gaokao essay training: “Accumulate a large number of famous quotes and materials—and not just any quotes, but preferably unfamiliar, esoteric ones to enhance the ‘tone’ of the essay. The essence of a high-scoring essay is likely just ’a successfully patched-up quilt.’ What’s more ridiculous is that most of these quotes are used for the sake of being used (after all, memorizing them is tiring, so they must be used multiple times), and are therefore often ill-fitting, superficially connected but spiritually divorced from the topic, distorting their original meaning.”
They pluck “the feathers of other birds” to adorn themselves instead of entering the hearts and experiences of the ancients, connecting the modern heart with the ancient heart. All men’s hearts are the same, and what is true for one is true for all. The standard foundation is the stream of culture and the practice of experience. By entering the past from the present, the humanistic light of the past opens up spiritual territories; exemplary figures reveal different ways of life. But without the stream of life, without the vivid experience of the present, the past is dead, enshrined. If the past devours the present, if there is no “presentness,” how can they participate in a world that is already completed? Their mind is that of a spectator, even an indifferent one. Dewey, in Art as Experience, explains:
“The world is finished, ended, and there are no traces of suspense and crisis, and no opportunity for choice. Where everything is already complete, there is no fulfillment.” [4]
The future is rooted in the “un-”: “unfinished,” “undefined.” From another perspective, it is “to-be-defined,” “to-be-completed.” This is growth and plasticity. Growth comes from the crevices of the present, the difficulties faced, the methods used, the energy mobilized, the conditions created, the momentum gathered. Intelligence is an adverb, derived from the degree of concentration on the task at hand, from the sustained pursuit of the light in one’s heart. The future grows out of the present, like a stream emerging from rock crevices and soil, then following the terrain, appearing and disappearing, becoming an underground river, a mountain brook, a stream in the world. The future is not a hollow blueprint in the mind; growth is not a choice between a few preset tracks, nor is it about crafting oneself or managing an image according to an imagined persona. Growth is using one’s own feet to forge a path where there was no path.
The “present” is mortgaged to the “past” and pre-spent on the “future.” Between the past and the future, the present is absent. This is a “second-hand time.” [5] In a world that is already completed, in a second-hand time that lacks the rhythm of temporal change and growth, there is no difference between being asleep and being awake.
The paradox lies in how the mind can be simultaneously dormant and yet sensitive and shrewd.
How are these dormancy and sensitivity so twistedly entangled? Moreover, how do they establish relationships with their surroundings, with their world?
II. “The Only Child”: The Absence of “Relationship”
How does a child enter this world? A child is fragile, dependent on those around them, and on their tangible physical needs. Moreover, how does the world enter a child’s heart? Dewey observed children: “The child has a primary social capacity. He is flexible and sensitive, sympathetically responsive to the attitudes and actions of those around him, to a degree that few adults can maintain.” [6]
A child has dependence. “This dependence is a power, not a weakness; it signifies interdependence.” It is open to the creation of reliable, trustworthy, and warm relationships. A child has plasticity. “This plasticity is different from that of wax or putty, which is entirely shaped by external forces. Human plasticity includes the ability not to change form just because of external pressure.” [7] Human plasticity is a supple elasticity, involving both adaptation to the environment and adherence to the self, a balancing act between the self and the environment. Plasticity comes from experience, from which one gains the ability to deal with difficulties in future situations.
A student from Beijing reflects:
“My mother was the one who raised me, and naturally, she couldn’t escape anxiety, becoming a ‘Haidian mom’ like everyone else. In my childhood, academic setbacks were resolved too early, while life’s setbacks came too late. When I had trouble memorizing poems or texts, or performed poorly in a subject, my mother would diligently share her experience, find tutors, and provide timely help. For daily life difficulties, she took care of everything she could. My mother treated discipline as the norm and freedom as a privilege. Care and companionship were absent in between.”
The “Haidian mom” is a classic example of Chinese parents. The driving force behind this phenomenon is the conflict between the “ideal self” and the “real self” for generations of Chinese people, a struggle between the “present” and the “future.” Who does not stumble in life? Who has not missed opportunities and felt regret? The impulse to “do it all over again” is channeled into the practice of raising children. The “future” thus acquires a concrete and immediate “near future”—something tangibly approaching.
Fei Xiaotong observed this in detail: “Since children are often seen by parents as a part of themselves… a self that has been ravaged by reality finds a concrete opportunity to try again. Every parent will, to some extent, correct in their children all the flaws of their own past. They will be careful to prevent the misfortunes they encountered from reappearing in their second life.” [8]
This is human nature and a typical family dynamic. Fei Xiaotong vividly describes Chinese parents as both compassionate and strict. “The elders stroke their beards, tolerate their own mistakes, and lightly pass the responsibility on to the next generation. ‘You must do well!’” [9]
In this transmission of bloodline and responsibility, although parent and child are one body, a gulf between generations is almost inevitable:
“How do the children see it? Parents see their children as part of themselves, but do the children see it that way? Parents pass their ideals on to their children and have the right to supervise their children’s behavior, but are the children willing to accept the ideals imposed upon them by their parents?” [10]
This touches upon a set of dynamics in the parent-child relationship: “symbiosis” and “consensus.” Fei Xiaotong uses Parker’s concepts to reveal the complexity of this relationship. Symbiosis is a common phenomenon in the biological world, where two species benefit from each other’s existence, like ants and aphids. The ant does not recognize the aphid’s personhood, let alone care about its joys or sorrows; it protects the aphid and carries it to suitable places for its own benefit—the aphid is its puppet. The aphid, in turn, provides the ant with sweet secretions in exchange for guards and carriers. They use each other, coexisting in symbiosis. Humans have another kind of relationship: Consensus. They are willing to sacrifice some of their own interests to fulfill the will of others—fulfillment, not exploitation. This is where morality, not just utility, arises. This is where the principles of loyalty and empathy emerge, and with them, society and solidarity. [11]
The parent-child relationship is both biological and social, a mix of symbiosis and consensus that evolves over time. Pure empathy exists only in utopia. In today’s China, with its transition from tradition to modernity, social structural changes, and the rupture of lifestyles and styles between generations, the “parent-child unity” and the “generational gulf” face even greater difficulties.
Traditional Chinese education was about “burying the ‘seeds’ of life in the soil,” [12] placing the individual’s life within the continuity of generations—serving the ancestors above and continuing the lineage below, becoming a link in the chain of social succession. Nurturing, raising, and teaching—body, mind, and spirit—were integrated, unfolding sequentially from the physical to the emotional to the intellectual. As parents and as children, what the elders did, the young imitated, mainly through daily ethical interactions and observations. Traditional Chinese culture emphasized “lún” (伦) externally—the way people interact—and “jié” (节) internally—self-restraint. The key to conducting oneself was a sense of proportion. Here, “lún” is not merely synchronic but also diachronic; it deals not only with the comings and goings of contemporaries in the same space but also with the continuation between ancestors and descendants over time. This means that traditional society never understood a person as an isolated individual but as a “whole person” within a web of social relations passed down from the past to the future. [13]
In an agrarian society, learning (xué, 学) was the initial contact with unfamiliar things. The method of learning was practice (xí, 习). Xí meant repetitive doing, conditioning a person to a new way of doing things through the tempering of time. Xí was also a form of cultivation. Behind learning was familiarity, a sense of intimacy born from concrete, multifaceted, and frequent contact. This feeling was the result of being refined through countless small frictions. “Is it not a pleasure?” describes this feeling of intimacy after familiarity. [14] At this point, a person establishes a life form that is both intricately intertwined and deeply rooted with their environment and the people and things around them. Traditional China was family-centered and did not emphasize the autonomous individual. Above the family were the clan, the village, and the state. Coexisting in a large family required tolerance horizontally and patience vertically. Children were full of reverence for their elders. The life of a traditional Chinese person, in supporting the old and raising the young, maintained dense yet resilient relationships through complex dealings of affairs, emotions, and principles. They lived in relationships, with achievements, “face,” and reputation.
In a transitional China, education has become a ladder for social mobility. The bittersweet taste of life has turned into “the bitterest of bitters,” and the aspiration to be a “decent person” (rénzhōngrén) has become the expectation of being a “person above others” (rénshàngrén). Parents use their own “bitterest of bitters” to lift up their “person above others” child, and the child uses the illusion of being a “person above others” to endure the “bitterest of bitters” of the present. In the pursuit of “knowledge changing one’s destiny,” family and social education and growth are confined to the narrow scope of knowledge transmission in schools, distorted into a competitive screening process among peers. One must be “uprooted” to achieve upward mobility.
Parents believe their children possess “infinite” potential and “unlimited” ability, so they desperately provide all resources to induce and cultivate them, placing their “unlimited” expectations upon them. They bear endless anxiety, labor their entire lives, and earnestly tell their children that all their efforts and sacrifices are for their future and prospects, arranging their children’s education with meticulous care out of an immense sense of responsibility and morality.
“Haidian moms” are often the first generation of university graduates in contemporary China. They hope to replicate their success in their children: using a strict method to implement their educational standards, planning their children’s academic path from age six to eighteen, pushing them to fight their way through the gaokao and enter prestigious universities, believing this will change their children’s destiny and that this is how they are responsible for them.
With their meticulous planning, high investment, and high accountability, they place their children in what seems to be a polished environment, rich in nutrients but sealed off from the natural light and temperature of the world—a giant bubble. In this bubble, the child becomes the parents’ “face,” the KPI of the family’s investment, and a puppet of the parents’ desires. These high-planning, high-control parents have all made a foolish mistake: they have deprived life of its most important characteristic: plasticity.
The synchronicity of a living organism with its surroundings is constantly lost and restored, through either effort or luck. By experiencing difference and resistance, life itself is enriched. If the gap is too large, the organism dies; if it is too uniform, the organism is not stimulated and cannot have a normal experience. Dewey particularly emphasized:
“In direct experience, doing, feeling, and meaning are one. Direct experience comes from the interaction between nature and man, an interaction in which human energies are concentrated, released, inhibited, frustrated, and fulfilled. Desire and fulfillment, the impulse to act and the inhibition of this impulse, repeat themselves in a circular and recurring rhythm.” [15]
In a perfectly designed bubble, the child’s life energy suffocates. The brighter the bubble is illuminated, the dimmer the flame of life within. They respond with indifference and numbness. A sense of burnout appears among the youth:
“I once told my flower-loving mother that applying fertilizer too early only burns the seedlings. Every child who tells their parents they are under a lot of pressure is hoping for proper communication and understanding, not for parents to adopt an unequal attitude and deprive them of the right to complain about pressure. Or perhaps they don’t consider our pressure to be pressure at all. Over time, this pressure and the lack of respect for one’s personhood will inevitably twist a person’s heart, even if we never notice it.”
Parents who are solely focused on lifting up their children, in their meticulous care, have also deprived them of the second crucial prerequisite for growth: dependence. The autonomy of a life independent of its environment is not only a false proposition but a harmful one. Behind seeming self-sufficiency and autonomy lies the mechanization of the person. Life is not only autonomous but also fragile. Its dependence on the environment, on relationships, is precisely the driving force of growth.
Today’s parents bear the responsibility themselves and entrust their expectations to their children. Yet this expectation is for the children to realize the parents’ dreams—dreams that are not about being like the parents, but different from them. Not about staying close, helping with daily chores, and thriving in familiar waters like a fish in water, but about leaving the nest, traveling far, and struggling in unfamiliar waters like a fish out of water. For a life that has been “uprooted,” where can it be cultivated?
“A cry and a smile, mutually responding; a pain and an itch, mutually empathizing—this is what makes a family. Among family, people rejoice in the joy of their loved ones, and their joy is amplified; people grieve in the sorrow of their loved ones, and their sorrow is not injurious. This is psychological resonance.” [16]
This is Liang Shuming’s description of family in traditional Chinese culture. However, in the present day, for the child who has been lifted up, “I will become you when I grow up”—is this an aspiration or a nightmare? “The mouth has the same tastes; the eye has the same sense of beauty.” [17] Without a shared life, without shared interests, there is no emotional connection between parent and child; their hearts are separated. The conflicting habits of attachment and resistance, of tenderness and contempt, plunge young people into an inescapable depression. How can they integrate with the common sense, familiar feelings, and standard principles of their family of origin? The phenomenon of “duànqīn” (cutting off family ties) has appeared.
They exist in a relational structure devoid of genuine relationships.
III. Mastering the Self: The “World’s” Retreat
A student who fled school and avoided society, finding it difficult to re-enter the world, wrote:
“I thought I had seen ‘the world,’ but in reality, I had only seen a ‘map of the world,’ only read the ‘travelogues’ written by others after they had walked through and seen the world. Textbooks and exams provided me with a theoretical world that was ‘completely certain, where everything has a standard answer, and everything can be found in the textbook.’ I could score first place, thriving in this theoretical world, unwilling and unthinking of stepping out of it.”
He stubbornly indulges in theory as one might indulge in a game. He misunderstands what good theory is: a theory rooted in life and experience, with explanatory power and tolerance for error. His “complete certainty” and “standard answers” are merely a system of “verisimilar” concepts, like the shadows on the wall in Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave,” separated from the true light of experience and filling the mind. He lives in a “mirror-like cognition” and a “mirror-like life.”
“Because there is always a single answer, we see no need to question the conclusions our teachers present. Thus, without any extra effort, we can directly believe and memorize the knowledge in the textbooks. Over time, we gradually lose the ability to think independently and thus become afraid of uncertain outcomes, because uncertain outcomes mean lower exam scores, which, through psychological conditioning, instills fear in us.”
Fearing uncertainty, they reject reality. A real rose always has flaws; it blooms and withers. They want only the most perfect moment. They reject time, for time contains waxing and waning, chance and change. They live in a “verisimilar” world—an abstract world that should have been distilled from experience but has had experience deleted, a fictional world without impurities or flaws. He is infatuated with purity and certainty, a deformed power grown from an abstract conceptual world.
How did this come to be? In their upbringing, both inside and outside of school, educational theories of autonomous learning are prevalent. In contemporary learning theory, this is translated as Self-Regulated Learning (SRL), which refers to a continuous, goal-oriented process of cognition, emotion, and action initiated by the learner. That is, the learner sets and regulates learning goals, and monitors and adjusts cognitive and metacognitive processes to aim for those goals.
This manifests as goal-orientation. Teaching and learning are no longer an opening up to the unknown and the world, but a behaviorist S-R (stimulus-response) reaction, swift and accurate. Learning evaluation is fully utilized in the “process-product research” model of teaching. Teaching is seen as a functionalist system. The teaching process is not an open, creative, and enriching field, but a closed, functional pipeline for pursuing causal relationships and efficiency—this is the prototype of goal-oriented self-learning. Manabu Sato criticizes this model for ignoring the individual’s internal experience and breaking down individuality or wholeness into observable, quantifiable, homogeneous indicators. It inherits Bobbitt’s social efficiency ideology, using a production engineering analogy for the learning model (goals, achievement, evaluation); it inherits the educational research of Taylor and Bloom based on behavioral science, using production-oriented, efficiency-driven industrialism and behaviorism, and controlling the teaching and learning process in the classroom with the techniques of systems engineering. [18] In the goal-oriented process-product model, teaching and learning become behavioral engineering, teachers become behavioral engineers, and evaluation becomes extremely important. Mastering the PDCA cycle becomes an indispensable generic skill for teachers:
Plan → Do → Check/Evaluate → Act:
Predict and formulate a plan, carry out the task according to the plan, check and evaluate whether the implementation results match the plan, and improve the task that does not match the plan, thus forming a continuous cycle. [19]
Shulman criticized the “process-product model” in teaching research for lacking the “3Cs”: content, cognition, and context. It does not inquire into the teaching content, the cognition and thinking of teachers and students, or the social context of the classroom, limiting itself to validating the effectiveness of learning goals and educational technology. [20]
Goal-oriented learning neglects the specificity and contextuality of teaching, assuming the existence of an innate, abstract ability or potential detached from specific knowledge and disciplines. This is reflected in a shift in testing: from testing forms of knowledge with strong cultural constraints (specific knowledge) to testing abstract and supposedly fairer thinking skills (methods and thinking). A tension arises between achievement tests (knowledge already mastered) and aptitude tests, with aptitude tests assuming some transcendent, non-experiential qualities. [21] In the American Scholastic Aptitude Tests (SATs), there is little emphasis on learning content and a great deal on learning methods. In assessing ability and thinking methods, knowledge is diluted and weakened. In testing, potential is separated from past achievement, assuming the test-taker is knowledge-poor (no longer deeply rooted in a cultural context). The tests focus more on methods and approaches, such as testing vocabulary through thought processes rather than on whether the thought is correct. This leads to a separation of the process of thinking from the content of thought. Thinking devoid of content can only be operational, and it requires a spiritual superficiality. [22]
Without life experience, without inner understanding, there is only formal correctness. They often say things they do not understand at all, with a straight face:
“When faced with knowledge, if one only has a mind like ’a poorly patched-up quilt,’ they either fail to grasp it, grasp it in a wrong and chaotic way, or just copy others’ methods mechanically. Long-term, illogical application of random fixes can make one’s thinking increasingly chaotic and weaken one’s sense of logic. Many times, they just talk nonsense, not knowing what they are saying, let alone having any original insights.”
Either they are long immersed in a “verisimilar” abstract world, or they turn theory into dogma, or they reason simplistically from formal logic, easily developing a polarized mindset of all-or-nothing:
“Thus, we have countless ‘adult-infants,’ megalomaniacs, ‘chauvinists,’ and countless major and minor feminists or male-rights advocates who abuse freedom of speech on online platforms, launching fierce attacks and ridicule without regard for the consequences.”
They live in their own opinions and cannot face the real world. Their emotions are also prone to dream-walking: “perfect protagonists, perfect family and romantic love, perfect lives, perfect worlds.” Emotionally, they demand intensity and extremity; intellectually, they demand purity. When interacting with others, they are prone to “intimate tyranny”—either they open up completely, seeing the other as another self, and at the slightest displeasure, harbor resentment, or they close off completely, seeing the other as an enemy or as nothing. In getting along with others, one should practice the path of empathy and forgiveness, knowing one’s own shortcomings and recognizing others’ strengths. By understanding one’s own strengths and weaknesses, one can be forgiving towards others, and in forgiving others, one can forgive one’s own ordinariness, and thus accept and enter an ordinary life.
More likely, they live in a state of numbness and insensibility. They receive an excess of stimulation, an excess of information. In the present, excess has become true poverty. The overload of information, in particular, creates a severe cognitive burden. The granularity is higher, the data more abundant, the details more precise, but this vast amount of information makes it harder to grasp the overall picture and understand intuitively. Their body and emotions cannot keep up with the excessive and fleeting information in their minds; they feel suffocated. Intense external stimuli, a rapid and excessive flow of information, the interruption of a momentary glance, or a sudden sense of the unexpected…
How can an individual resist the (spiritual) degradation or (emotional) erosion brought about by a socio-technical organization? Before World War I, in Germany, Georg Simmel posed such a question.
“The metropolitan man develops an organ to protect himself from the dangerous currents and external environments that would uproot him. He reacts with his head instead of his heart; this reaction to the metropolis makes the organ numb and impersonal.” [23]
E-motion, gǎn-dòng (感-动), is the “movement” (dòng) of the heart brought on by “sensation” (gǎn) as the world rushes toward you. However, the world no longer touches me, and I can no longer touch the outside world. In the state of depression where all resonance has fallen silent, everything external is deathly pale, cold, and empty, and even everything inside my heart is silent and numb.
From “autonomous learning to understand the world” to “self-monitoring to master the self”: before this highly controlled self, the world retreats, and the self retreats too. They live within an algorithm, at once ambitious and fragile as a puppet, both manipulated by and manipulating the algorithm. In their world, scores and GPA are the currency:
“Scores become the sole recognition. The sense of accomplishment from doing something, from doing it well—the prevailing currency is scores and GPA.”
In the world built by GPA, everyone has their rank. They become devoid of personality, yet highly similar. They share a race with no exit, and though they are on the same path, they are distant from and disgusted with one another.
“Free will: choose what I choose, love what I love. But I do not know what I like, nor do I have any real motivation to cast aside the ladder and walk into my own wilderness.”
Without joy, without anything to cherish… We often say that to know and judge a person, one must observe what they are at ease with and what motivates them. However, if they are at ease with nothing and motivated by nothing, their self has also retreated.
The world and the self have begun a mutual retreat. Life is organic to its environment; life is situated in a specific environment that belongs to it, that it grows with:
“Life goes on in an environment; not merely in it but because of it, through interaction with it…
At every moment, the living creature is exposed to danger from its surroundings, and at every moment, it must draw something from its surroundings to satisfy its own needs. The life-experience of a living creature is destined to be an exchange with its surroundings, not in an external, but in the most intimate way.” [24]
Without this internal, organic exchange of energy, how can the self and the world, in their mutual retreat, ever meet? The world of ACGN (Anime, Comics, Games, and Novels) becomes popular. They put on masks, craft personas, and treat the world as a stage, checking in at various locations. Dressed in splendid attire, with heavy makeup, holding props, they travel through time and space. The world is but a stage, and the protagonist is an imagined persona. The distinction between virtual and real is irrelevant. The world is not even a stage; a stage is not ethereal enough. A stage and a play have scenic limitations; actors must interact with each other and with the audience below. There is a plot to be immersed in, a complete narrative to be enacted and served.
Their life can no longer bear a story with a beginning and an end. Their life is but a fleeting dream in a garden.
A student who finally found the courage to take a year-long leave of absence wrote:
“The reason a young person’s life is so full of lies is not that he is too arrogant, but precisely that he is too humble—he is always governed by what he thinks he ‘should do,’ rather than what he truly wants to do.”
“The young person looks at the pie in the sky drawn by those who have come before, at the path they point to, but forgets that he too has eyes, the ability to discover, to see.”
“The world is so big, I want to go and see it. And, I have been walking too hastily; I need to stop for a while.”
She has stopped to look carefully. I believe she can walk out of her confusion, out of “second-hand time,” and truly forge her own path and life.
Footnotes
[1] Liu Yunshan, Professor and Doctoral Supervisor, Faculty of Education, Peking University. Areas of specialization: Sociology of Education, Higher Education.
[2] The author has been deeply engaged in research on university student development for many years. The italicized content in the text comes from interviews, student-written autobiographies, as well as class discussions and coursework. The primary purpose of this article is to elaborate on a viewpoint; the student materials serve to raise questions, provide examples, or advance the argument. As they are not presented as case studies, their specific majors, years, and identities are not disclosed, and they are identified only by font and quotation marks.
[3] Comenius, John Amos. The Great Didactic. Translated by Fu Rengan. Beijing: People’s Education Press, 1984, p. 124. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[4] Dewey, John. Art as Experience. Translated by Gao Jianping. Beijing: The Commercial Press, 2010, p. 19. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[5] The concept of “second-hand time” appeared in the eponymous work of documentary literature, Время Second Hand, by Nobel laureate and Belarusian writer Svetlana Alexievich. The author states: “All of today’s ideas and all the words are from someone else, as if they were clothes worn by someone yesterday… Everyone is using what others have known and experienced before, which is why it’s called second-hand time.” See S. A. Alexievich, Second-Hand Time, trans. Lü Ningsi, CITIC Press, 2016, postscript. This article uses “second-hand time” to describe the growth state of current university students, who are constrained by the “past” and the “future,” as if living in “second-hand” time.
[6] Dewey, John. Democracy and Education. Translated by Wang Chengxu. Beijing: People’s Education Press, 1990, p. 51. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[7] Dewey, John. Democracy and Education. Translated by Wang Chengxu. Beijing: People’s Education Press, 1990, p. 52. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[8] Fei Xiaotong. From the Soil: The Foundations of Chinese Society & A Chinese Village. Beijing: Peking University Press, 1998, pp. 202-203. [Note: The Chinese title is 《乡土中国·生育制度》. This is a standard translation of the title.]
[9] Fei Xiaotong. From the Soil, p. 203.
[10] Fei Xiaotong. From the Soil, pp. 203, 205.
[11] Fei Xiaotong. From the Soil, p. 206.
[12] See Lin Yueh-Hwa, The Golden Wing, Chapter XXI title and the end of the story.
[13] Pan Guangdan. The Collected Works of Pan Guangdan, Vol. 6 (M). Beijing: Peking University Press, 2000, pp. 112-124.
[14] Fei Xiaotong. From the Soil, p. 10.
[15] Dewey, John. Democracy and Education. Translated by Wang Chengxu. Beijing: People’s Education Press, 1990, p. 18. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[16] Liang Shuming. The Essential Meanings of Chinese Culture. Shanghai: Shanghai People’s Publishing House, 2005, p. 77.
[17] See Mencius, Gaozi I.
[18] Sato, Manabu. Curriculum and Teacher. Translated by Zhong Qiquan. Beijing: Educational Science Publishing House, 2003, pp. 309-310. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[19] Zhong Qiquan. Ten Lectures on Core Competencies. Fujian: Fujian Education Press, 2018, p. 114.
[20] Sato, Manabu. Curriculum and Teacher. Translated by Zhong Qiquan. Beijing: Educational Science Publishing House, 2003, p. 312. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[21] Abbott, Andrew. The Future of the University and the Future of Knowledge. Translated by Wang Tong et al. Beijing: SDX Joint Publishing Company, 2023, p. 213. [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided.]
[22] Sennett, Richard. The Culture of the New Capitalism. Translated by Li Jihong. Shanghai: Shanghai Translation Publishing House, 2010, pp. 89-91. [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided.]
[23] Simmel, Georg. The Philosophy of Fashion. Translated by Fei Yong et al. Guangzhou: Flower City Publishing House, 2017, p. 248. \ [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided. \]
[24] Dewey, John. Art as Experience. Translated by Gao Jianping. Beijing: The Commercial Press, 2010, p. 15. [Note: This is a translation of the Chinese citation provided.]
