ON Sunday night, when exhorted to go to sleep, my son felt compelled to make a confession.

On Friday he took a comprehensive test of English and math, and the results are to be published next week. The results could be very poor, for the tests include some items so difficult that some claim that only those who have received aoshu (Olympic math) training would be able to solve them easily.

I told him not to worry about it, but I left his room greatly perturbed. This is the second time this week that I have heard about aoshu.

A few days earlier, I got a call from Shen, the father of one of my son's great pals who studied in an elite foreign language primary school, learned guqin (Chinese zither) on weekends, but has yet to have the benefit of aoshu training.

The father was thrown into such a panic after reading articles posted by other parents, that he said he would likely send his son to Olympic math training next year. By all accounts, without the benefit of aoshu, his son might end up a sanxiaosheng, a student in a kind of professional/vocational-training middle school especially designed for underachievers, who have virtually no hope of entering college. That would be a nightmare for most Chinese parents.

I tried to reassure him, citing the need to consider his son's inclinations (I know the poor kid will protest violently extracurricular Olympic math), the powerful commercial interests that stand to gain by fueling the panic, and so on. But as I continued, my confidence gradually failed me.

What if the father does follow my advice, not worry about Olympic math, and his son does end up being a sanxiaosheng?

Gullible parents

Of course, in dissuading Shen, I had the good sense not to mention the education watchdog, the Ministry of Education and its local subsidiaries. There have been many cases across the country in which parents have ruined their kids' future by trusting local education authorities' pledge to crack down on aoshu. Many of these gullible parents are condemned to live in remorse and guilt forever after.

I also recalled a chat I had with another Shen a couple of months ago. The mother herself has been an educator and her daughter is one of the star students in my son's class. "Some say gaokao is important, but actually the xiaoshengchu (the upgrade from primary to middle school) test is crucial," she told me.

Her message sank in only recently, after I had done a bit of cramming on xiaoshengchu.

In my time, there was little homework, and no one took test scores seriously, though I paid 0.8 yuan for tuition a term.

A sea change has taken place since primary education has evolved into something compulsory, where there is no tuition, and students are expected to be automatically elevated to the middle school, without reference to test results.

In theory, enrollment in middle school would be randomly decided by computer, based predominantly on the principle of proximity to home. If that happens, we would be nearer the ideal of having schools roughly equal in their quality, for each school would have a fair mix of all kinds of students, "good" or "poor." That would have effectively protected students from meaningless competition.

Mingxiao v poor schools

But the fact is that there is a difference between the much-sought-after mingxiao (well-known schools), and poor schools. All mingxiao are sparing no effort in promoting themselves, generally by recruiting "good" students.

Simultaneously, as enrollment those few known schools is hotly contested by eager parents, the many ordinary schools are shunned like pests. As candidates can no longer be legally and openly assessed by school-administered tests, there have evolved a stunning 16 means of getting enrolled in a mingxiao.

Students good at aoshu might directly enroll in mingxiao on the strength of their aoshu talents. Tests results in English competition or music training certificates can also help. One important approach is simply for mingxiao to sponsor extracurricular training in aoshu and English during the weekends or vacations. These schools would announce or hint to parents that trainee students would have priority in being enrolled in the school.

According to one survey, about 80 percent of primary and middle school students in Beijing are attending various kinds of extracurricular training. There are more than 10,000 such training establishments in Beijing.

According to China Youth Daily, in Beijing a couple would spend on average 87,000 yuan (US$13,653) to help their kid get enrolled in a good middle school. These extra-curricular training schools in Beijing, in order of decreasing affinity with a certain mingxiao, can be classified into four categories: gold, silver, earth, and muck. The last type refers to those training schools that have no affiliation with the school in question.

In addition to attending these ranked training schools, students who have received various honors, won places in competitions or have been class or cadres in classes can also get bonus points toward enrollment in desired schools.

Some parents can ensure their child's enrollment by donating a sum of money, or showing a tiaozi, a recommendation written by an influential figure.

That leaves the least resourceful and unenlightened parents to await random computer assignment of their child to a school relatively near their home.

Public enemy

In 2009, professor Yang Dongping published his "Down with the Vicious Aoshu!" in his blog, calling aoshu public enemy No. 1 that is destroying children faster than porn, drugs, gambling or online games. "Kids have become hostages to those few vested interests who, in the name of developing intelligence and quality education, are working in cahoots with each other to extort huge profits," Yang blogged.

Aggrieved and disappointed parents have demanded that education authorities allow mingxiao (the better middle schools) to enroll openly in the style of gaokao national college examination (not clear on gaokao style relating to middle school admission.)

Greedy deans

Some parents fume that there's no point flirting with compulsory education or fair enrollment in a neighborhood school. These notions are long dead.

Even Yu Minhong, a billionaire who amassed his fortune by providing English training, was appalled by the greed of middle school deans.

"Some deans are asking more and more money. In the past, school deans and the form master would be responsible for recommending training centers to the students. They used to say that you pay a certain sum and all the training is yours. Today the dean asks for 30,000 yuan, but two months later he asks for 50,000 yuan," Yu complained. He said all training profits end up in the pockets of some individuals from mingxiao.

All these dealings are rationalized, or even glorified, in terms of cultural market value.

According to Deloitte's prediction, China's education market will be worth 960 billion yuan this year, and is growing fast. Another survey predicts China's tuition market will be worth US$33 billion yuan.

Should our policy makers and educators take pride in these dazzling figures?