Home schools stress self-directed study, curiosity and love of learning
WHEN author Zheng Yuanjie withdrew his son Zheng Yaqi after primary school around 18 years ago, everyone thought he was going mad and ruining the child's life.
Zheng, one of China's best-selling children's authors, wrote materials for his son based on approved school curriculum and added subjects that he considered important, such as law and computer skills. He told his son he would have to make a living for himself after he turned 18.
At first young Zheng, now age 30, found it difficult to find a job since he had only an elementary-school certificate. He started moving boxes in a supermarket stock room and did that for three months until he landed a job as a web designer. Later, he founded a cultural enterprise that mainly handled copyrights and promotion of his father's old books, magazines and other works. He also became a wildlife photographer and opened his own studio.
His father's choice is better understood today.
Si shu, literally private schools, is an old term referring to the traditional Confucian-centered schools established privately by wealthy businessmen, retired government officials or parents who hoped their children would pass national exams to become government officials.
It has been revived and revised as today's "home school," with more varied content and teaching methods, and usually less pressure.
There is nothing in China like the well-organized American home schooling movement.
In China, small home-based schools founded or sponsored by parents have quietly spread in major cities in the past 10 years, but there's no reliable estimate of numbers.
They are usually set in suburban stand-alone houses and admit only a dozen or so students of various ages. Some focus on classic Chinese texts, others teach various subjects from English to physics. Many encourage self-directed learning, and make time for play, exercise and art - crowded out in many modern schools to make time for academics.
Win at the starting line
When it comes to their children, most Chinese parents believe it is necessary to "win at the starting line," a phrase coined to describe the obsession with obtaining the best educational resources starting from pre-school.
The pressure never lets up. Children are expected to always stay at least one level above grade, starting in preschool.
They spend endless hours doing homework assigned by teachers, private tutors and parents. They take extracurricular classes in "Olympic Math," languages and other subjects.
Throughout their young lives, students are evaluated according to test performance. For many people education becomes a grind and love of learning is often sacrificed.
Heavy academic work from a young age, emphasis on tests, uninspired subject matter and insufficient teaching of Chinese culture are among the reasons parents, usually well-educated people of means, place their children in alternative schools from a young age.
"Back in our day, going to college could change a person's life, but now, take a look at our university graduates today. What did they learn from school?" says Robert Wang, a former magazine editor and headmaster of a home school in Shenzhen, Guangdong Province. Authorities there are much more relaxed about home schools than Shanghai educators.
Wang shares his - and many other parents' - philosophy with Shanghai Daily. "Education is still supposed to change one's life, but not by providing a ladder to a good job, pay and social status, instead, by offering a way of lifelong learning, appreciating life and happiness."
Three years ago, he started educating his own daughter, then 12 years old. He hired tutors to teach the licensed school curriculum, in addition to monthly research projects that he himself assigned. He also hired art and dance instructors.
Gradually, his like-minded friends asked to send their own children, and now the school has nearly 100 children aged from eight to 16.
Tuition is expensive. It costs 40,000 yuan (US6,489) for a year.
Many parents around the country are interested, but there aren't many unlicensed schools yet, especially post-pre schools. A national online community has been formed, with sub-forums and groups in many cities, but less than one-third of these parents, numbering in the thousands, are practicing it. The quality of unlicensed schools varies greatly.
"I really want to follow the practice of home schooling, but I can't just quit my job or work at home, and I can't seem to find a home school in the area," says a parent from Nanjing, asking that his name not be published. "It's a very good idea, but it's also a big risk. With no precedent cases in China, I can't be sure whether the children would be better or worse off if they were put in a home school rather than a licensed one."
Zheng, one of China's best-selling children's authors, wrote materials for his son based on approved school curriculum and added subjects that he considered important, such as law and computer skills. He told his son he would have to make a living for himself after he turned 18.
At first young Zheng, now age 30, found it difficult to find a job since he had only an elementary-school certificate. He started moving boxes in a supermarket stock room and did that for three months until he landed a job as a web designer. Later, he founded a cultural enterprise that mainly handled copyrights and promotion of his father's old books, magazines and other works. He also became a wildlife photographer and opened his own studio.
His father's choice is better understood today.
Si shu, literally private schools, is an old term referring to the traditional Confucian-centered schools established privately by wealthy businessmen, retired government officials or parents who hoped their children would pass national exams to become government officials.
It has been revived and revised as today's "home school," with more varied content and teaching methods, and usually less pressure.
There is nothing in China like the well-organized American home schooling movement.
In China, small home-based schools founded or sponsored by parents have quietly spread in major cities in the past 10 years, but there's no reliable estimate of numbers.
They are usually set in suburban stand-alone houses and admit only a dozen or so students of various ages. Some focus on classic Chinese texts, others teach various subjects from English to physics. Many encourage self-directed learning, and make time for play, exercise and art - crowded out in many modern schools to make time for academics.
Win at the starting line
When it comes to their children, most Chinese parents believe it is necessary to "win at the starting line," a phrase coined to describe the obsession with obtaining the best educational resources starting from pre-school.
The pressure never lets up. Children are expected to always stay at least one level above grade, starting in preschool.
They spend endless hours doing homework assigned by teachers, private tutors and parents. They take extracurricular classes in "Olympic Math," languages and other subjects.
Throughout their young lives, students are evaluated according to test performance. For many people education becomes a grind and love of learning is often sacrificed.
Heavy academic work from a young age, emphasis on tests, uninspired subject matter and insufficient teaching of Chinese culture are among the reasons parents, usually well-educated people of means, place their children in alternative schools from a young age.
"Back in our day, going to college could change a person's life, but now, take a look at our university graduates today. What did they learn from school?" says Robert Wang, a former magazine editor and headmaster of a home school in Shenzhen, Guangdong Province. Authorities there are much more relaxed about home schools than Shanghai educators.
Wang shares his - and many other parents' - philosophy with Shanghai Daily. "Education is still supposed to change one's life, but not by providing a ladder to a good job, pay and social status, instead, by offering a way of lifelong learning, appreciating life and happiness."
Three years ago, he started educating his own daughter, then 12 years old. He hired tutors to teach the licensed school curriculum, in addition to monthly research projects that he himself assigned. He also hired art and dance instructors.
Gradually, his like-minded friends asked to send their own children, and now the school has nearly 100 children aged from eight to 16.
Tuition is expensive. It costs 40,000 yuan (US6,489) for a year.
Many parents around the country are interested, but there aren't many unlicensed schools yet, especially post-pre schools. A national online community has been formed, with sub-forums and groups in many cities, but less than one-third of these parents, numbering in the thousands, are practicing it. The quality of unlicensed schools varies greatly.
"I really want to follow the practice of home schooling, but I can't just quit my job or work at home, and I can't seem to find a home school in the area," says a parent from Nanjing, asking that his name not be published. "It's a very good idea, but it's also a big risk. With no precedent cases in China, I can't be sure whether the children would be better or worse off if they were put in a home school rather than a licensed one."
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