It’s nice having a holiday that recognizes the important work that teachers do, but in the end, these gestures are sort of empty if on the other 364 days of the year, your job is miserable(悲惨的). Sadly, as a rather depressing(压低) report in China Daily makes clear, that seems to be the case for many teachers in China (the article is entitled “Tired, Stressed, and Fed Up” — yikes(争论)):

Statistics(统计数值) compiled(编译) by the National Primary and Secondary(第二的) School Mental Health Discussion Group in 2005, which is so far the most authoritative(有权威的) data, found almost half of the teachers involved(包含)suffered a mild or moderate(稳健的) mental illness.

About 2 percent had even received medical treatment for emotional(情绪的) distress(危难), said organizers, who interviewed 2,292 teachers at 168 primary and secondary schools in Liaoning province.

A separate poll(投票) of more than 1,300 teachers across 13 districts of Shanghai last September also discovered that one-third were “fed up” and regretted joining the profession, according to the Shanghai Academy of Educational Sciences.

Ouch. Says a lot as well about China’s continuing problems with treating mental illness, an issue that came up most prominently(显著地) several months ago with the wave of school violence. Speaking of which, I have to wonder what effect that had on teachers, many of which are probably suffering from some sort of post-traumatic(受伤后的) stress(压力) disorder(混乱). Perhaps they should get military(军事的) training and receive additional(附加的) combat(战斗) pay?

Among the complaints(抱怨) listed in the article include excessive(过多的) workload, dealing with tyrannical(残暴的) parents, and a ridiculous(可笑的) obsession(痴迷) with exam scores. This illustration(说明) should catch your attention:

“In a way, the rankings and students’ scores have become the key criteria(标准) for schools and parents to evaluate(评价) the capability(才能) of a teacher,” said Gan Yuan, principal(校长) of Changchun No 125 Junior Middle School. “We don’t want to but the education system forces us to do that.”

He admitted, however, that the strain(张力) often proves too much.

“We called the 120 emergency hotline for ambulances several times last semester,” added Gan. “It’s common for teachers to suddenly collapse(倒塌) while giving classes.”

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating. Just because a society has relied(依靠) on these national exams for the past 3 million years, that doesn’t mean that the system couldn’t use a little tweaking(扭). Governments just love easy metrics(度量标准), and test scores make evaluations(评价) so damn(非常)simple; for the record, I’m not in favor of this in the U.S. either, where a focus on national exams and standards have created similar problems. You know, when folks are keeling(给…装龙骨) over in the classroom, reform(改革) just might be indicated(表明).

Instead, in an attempt to be more competitive(竞争的) and attractive, schools are making changes that actually increase levels of stress for educators. Check out this well-meaning but horrible policy(政策):

Most schools also adhere(坚持) to a policy of “transparent(透明的) teaching”, which means officials and parents can observe classes whenever they choose.

“At least two parents come and sit at the back of my classroom every day,” said Luo Jing, 29, who teaches English in Changchun. “I have taught the same textbooks for six years but still I’m nervous whenever I see them staring directly at me.”

That sort of constant scrutiny(详细审查) from these vultures(秃鹰) (sorry, I meant ‘parents’) would be a deal breaker for me. Luckily, I teach law students at a university and don’t have to deal with this sort ofparental(父母亲的) interference(干扰). I understand the need for quality control, but this just goes too far.

Finally, a quick note about the students. The one-child policy obviously has driven parents to be even moreobsessive(强迫性的) about education than they usually are in China, but students have to shoulder some of the blame as well. Kids that have grown up in a country that is obviously on the rise, with steady economic(经济的) growth every year, tend(照料) to take all this for granted(算是如此). From my perspective(观点) as a grouchy(不高兴的) old dude(花花公子), kids these days are way too spoiled and arrogant(自大的).

I’ve seen this with young lawyers over the years. They don’t want to do any of the low-level work that the rest of us did to gain experience. From day one, they expect to be meeting with clients and handling large cases, even when they have absolutely(绝对地) no clue(线索) what they’re doing. I’ve had trainee(练习生) attorneys(律师) who have quit(离开) after a single week because they were not getting the kind of respect they felt they deserved as a fresh graduate of [insert famous China law school here].

When you spoil the kiddies(小孩) their whole lives, one result is that they expect nothing but high marks in school and treat the teachers like *****(屎，自动屏蔽了，呵呵). I know I’m sounding completely ancient here, and perhaps slightly senile(高龄的), but today’s youth in China seem to have lost all respect for authority(权威). Yeah, that sounds weird(怪异的). Blame some of that on poor role models, in both the private and public sector(部门), but I have to hold the kids accountable(有责任的) for their own behavior(行为) as well.