By Liu Yue
When official systems fail, ordinary people without wealth or power are more likely to be victims.
My 12-year-old cousin is one such victim, and I thus feel compelled to tell what happened because I hope fewer kids get hurt.
It started when my cell phone rang last Friday. It was from my cousin, Laidi. He wanted to talk to me through Skype.
I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw a bruise on his forehead. He isn't a troublemaker. What could have happened to a kid who loves reading and taking pictures?
"What happened?" I asked.
"I fought with Quangui today. I don't feel sorry about it at all," he said it as if he had brought someone to justice.
"Quangui? Is he the one who bullies other kids a lot? Why did you fight? He's 15 centimeters taller and 15 kilos heavier than you." I said.
"He is a major black sheep in my class. He told me that his father pulled strings for him that he could go to a key junior high school,while I would have to wait for the results from the computer system where only poorly-rated schools are available," he said it with watery eyes.
There is no official standard to identify which groups of students should go to a key junior middle school in China. In big cities like Beijing, parents try every possible connection to get their children into a key school. They might pay the school 35,000 to 60,000 yuan ($5,404 to $9,264), and give thank-you money or gifts to their connections. Most such connections are government officials. Yet, no investigations are conducted, because this unsavory business is done over fancy dinner tables or holiday resorts paid for by the parents.
More than 85 percent of sixth-grader families are involved. A computer system decides where the have-nots go, but the major schools in that system are bottom-tier. To make it look "fair," some good schools are also on the list in the computer system. The truth is that it's more likely to win $5 million in a lottery than be picked by good schools in that system.
And the consequences ripple down the line. At elite universities in Beijing, the percentage of children coming from poor backgrounds has plummeted, as the wealthy and connected snatch up the places that once went to talented rural students.
"Honey, we must deal with the fact that some people are luckier than us, just because of their blood," I said, calmly, but my blood was boiling.
"I didn't punch him for that. Quangui said that I was a loser because my father is a big loser. I couldn't stand that and punched him," he said. He then buried his face in his arms, and wept.
"Laidi, are you OK? Say something! Anything!" I pleaded.
I went through this too. I was at the top of my class in elementary school, but without connections I was forced to attend a junior high school where the boys were addicted to smoking and video games and girls put on makeup during classes. The strong smell coming from those girls' nail polish still sticks in my memory.
After almost 20 minutes, Laidi said, "All I'm asking for is a fair chance. I don't begrudge those kids from well-connected families their places in a better school if we have a fair test or something that scientifically proves that I'm less capable than them."
I couldn't believe this came from a 12-year-old kid.
I'm nobody and can do little for my cousin and kids who suffer like him. I'm writing, because I hope among the readers might be an esteemed scholar, a powerful official, or someone who can make a difference. Please do something to help us poor kids!
The author is a Beijing-based freelance writer. opinion@globaltimes.com.cn
When official systems fail, ordinary people without wealth or power are more likely to be victims.
My 12-year-old cousin is one such victim, and I thus feel compelled to tell what happened because I hope fewer kids get hurt.
It started when my cell phone rang last Friday. It was from my cousin, Laidi. He wanted to talk to me through Skype.
I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw a bruise on his forehead. He isn't a troublemaker. What could have happened to a kid who loves reading and taking pictures?
"What happened?" I asked.
"I fought with Quangui today. I don't feel sorry about it at all," he said it as if he had brought someone to justice.
"Quangui? Is he the one who bullies other kids a lot? Why did you fight? He's 15 centimeters taller and 15 kilos heavier than you." I said.
"He is a major black sheep in my class. He told me that his father pulled strings for him that he could go to a key junior high school,while I would have to wait for the results from the computer system where only poorly-rated schools are available," he said it with watery eyes.
There is no official standard to identify which groups of students should go to a key junior middle school in China. In big cities like Beijing, parents try every possible connection to get their children into a key school. They might pay the school 35,000 to 60,000 yuan ($5,404 to $9,264), and give thank-you money or gifts to their connections. Most such connections are government officials. Yet, no investigations are conducted, because this unsavory business is done over fancy dinner tables or holiday resorts paid for by the parents.
More than 85 percent of sixth-grader families are involved. A computer system decides where the have-nots go, but the major schools in that system are bottom-tier. To make it look "fair," some good schools are also on the list in the computer system. The truth is that it's more likely to win $5 million in a lottery than be picked by good schools in that system.
And the consequences ripple down the line. At elite universities in Beijing, the percentage of children coming from poor backgrounds has plummeted, as the wealthy and connected snatch up the places that once went to talented rural students.
"Honey, we must deal with the fact that some people are luckier than us, just because of their blood," I said, calmly, but my blood was boiling.
"I didn't punch him for that. Quangui said that I was a loser because my father is a big loser. I couldn't stand that and punched him," he said. He then buried his face in his arms, and wept.
"Laidi, are you OK? Say something! Anything!" I pleaded.
I went through this too. I was at the top of my class in elementary school, but without connections I was forced to attend a junior high school where the boys were addicted to smoking and video games and girls put on makeup during classes. The strong smell coming from those girls' nail polish still sticks in my memory.
After almost 20 minutes, Laidi said, "All I'm asking for is a fair chance. I don't begrudge those kids from well-connected families their places in a better school if we have a fair test or something that scientifically proves that I'm less capable than them."
I couldn't believe this came from a 12-year-old kid.
I'm nobody and can do little for my cousin and kids who suffer like him. I'm writing, because I hope among the readers might be an esteemed scholar, a powerful official, or someone who can make a difference. Please do something to help us poor kids!
The author is a Beijing-based freelance writer. opinion@globaltimes.com.cn
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