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What Conditions Could Foster More Balanced School Experiences? Stability & Change in the Education System in China (Part 5)

Can the changing economic, political, and demographic conditions in China combine with growing concerns about students’ mental health and wellbeing to create a more balanced education system? Thomas Hatch explores this question in the final post in a series that shares his reflections on his conversations with Chinese educators and visits to Chinese schools over the past two years. The first post in this series explored some of the “niches of possibility” within the conventional Chinese curriculum and schedule that may foster the development of more student-centered approaches. The second post reviewed changes in educational policy in China that may have created some additional flexibility for schools to pursue innovative educational approaches and reinforced exam pressures at the same time. The third post discussed how one experimental school is trying to take advantage of AI to support students’ learning and development and the fourth considered recent efforts to respond to growing concerns about students’ mental health.

For other posts on education and educational change in China see “Boundless Learning in an Early Childhood Center in Shenzen, China;””Supporting healthy development of rural children in China: The Sunshine Kindergartens of the Beijing Western Sunshine Rural Development Foundation;” The Recent Development of Innovative Schools in China – An Interview with Zhe Zhang (Part 1 & Part 2);” “The Desire for Innovation is Always There: A Conversation with Yong Zhao on the Evolution of the Chinese Education System (Part 1 & Part 2);”“Surprise, Controversy, and the “Double Reduction Policy” in China;””Launching a New School in China: An Interview with Wen Chen from Moonshot Academy;”and ”New Gaokao in Zhejiang China: Carrying on with Challenges


The elite schools I visited in China demonstrate the kinds of innovative practices that can fit into the Chinese education system even with its exam-based focus and intense academic pressures. At the same time, the academic pressures continue to constrain any attempt to change instruction and spread more student-centered pedagogies on a wide scale. Although it seems that there may be no way out of the “trap” of increasing academic pressure, it’s also clear that the Chinese education systems has changed substantially over the past thirty years, in concert with significant developments in the demographic, economic, technological and political conditions in China.  These realities left me wondering: Could China leverage the changing societal conditions to create more balanced educational experiences for future generations of students?

Changing conditions in China over the past 30 years

In China, the massive expansion of education at every level, and particularly the growth in the number of university places could have helped to lessen some of the exam-based pressure on students. However, those developments took place along with the massive growth in the Chinese population to over 1.3 billion people by 2010. At the same time, almost 800 million people have lifted themselves out of poverty and China’s middle class, now the largest in the world, includes over 500 million people.  Even with the substantial increases in the number of colleges and universities, those developments mean that many more parents aspire to get their children into a handful of top institutions of higher education and many more students are competing for those limited places.

Further fueling the pressure is a substantial rural-urban divide, with students in rural areas experiencing much more difficult basic conditions and much less chance of getting a good education, getting a good score on the Gaokao, or getting into college. Although most villages had a primary school of some kind in the 1990’s, as birth rates fell and rural parents migrated to cities to take advantage of the economic opportunities, almost three-quarters of all primary schools – around 300,000 – were closed. As a consequence, some children have to travel long distances to school and others spend the school week at boarding schools, including what are estimated to be some 60 million “left-behind children” whose parents could not take them when they migrated to find work. As of 2015, there were about 100,000 boarding schools in rural China, with an estimated 33 million children living in them, including about 12% of primary school children and 50% of rural secondary school students. Crucially, the difficult conditions contribute to the gap between urban and rural students in high school completion and access to higher education. 

Recent changes in birth rates, employment, and college enrollment 

But conditions are changing again – fast. Births in China have now declined so much that the birth rate in 2023 was about half of what it was in 2015 only eight years earlier. The population decline in 2023 was also twice as large as it was in 2022, the first year the population dropped in 60 years. China’s economic growth has now slowed to one of its lowest rates in more than three decades; a real estate crisis has contributed to plunging house prices; and unemployment among youth has been so bad that in 2021 more than 70% of those 16 – 24 year-olds who were unemployed in Chinese cities had a college degree. By 2023, once the overall youth unemployment rate passed 21% China temporarily stopped reporting the figures. In 2024, with a new measure that excludes students, youth unemployment still stood at over 14%. At the same time, the expansion of higher education has continued while employment opportunities for post-secondary graduates have dropped. In 2024, only half of the 11.58 million graduates have gotten a job or gained admission to postgraduate study. Recognizing that problem, the Chinese government has encouraged universities to admit many more masters and doctoral students, leading enrollments in graduate programs to double between 2010 and 2021.

Number of total enrollments for graduate students (2010–2021). Graduate Education in China

Unfortunately, the glut of college graduates, in turn, has contributed to diminished job prospects for many of those who worked so hard for good grades and high scores on the Gaokao. As one researcher at China’s National Institute of Education Sciences put it, college graduates should lower their expectations and look for jobs in sectors such as food or parcel delivery; other reports claimed masters degree recipients were taking on jobs like trash collectors. These changing circumstances challenge the very idea that schools are a vehicle for upward social mobility As one joke puts it: “The mortgage is nearly 10 million, the spouse does not work, and the second child is studying abroad. This is simply the three things that will cause the middle class to fall back into poverty.” Given these developments, some researchers see a recent drop in the number of graduate school applicants as a “return to rationality” Perhaps, the latest generation of Chinese students are beginning to recognize that postgraduate study can no longer guarantee them a better job.  

Under these demographic and economic conditions, it’s possible to imagine scenarios where the seemingly inevitable increases in academic pressure and competition might subside somewhat. After years of urbanization that exacerbated the rural-urban gap in educational and economic prospects, a “reverse” migration and a redistribution of the population back to smaller cities and rural areas may be underway. Rural – urban migration had already slowed down before the COVID pandemic, and China’s statistics bureau reported that there were almost two and a half million fewer migrant workers in urban areas in 2021 than there were in 2019, with more migrants staying closer to home. That reversal has been aided by the development of the digital economy and opportunities for remote work as well as by longstanding restrictions that make it difficult, if not impossible for migrant workers to access housing, schooling for their children, and other benefits.  

Since 2012, the Chinese leadership has also made reducing the gap between urban and rural development a priority, and the government has supported investment in rural areas through a variety of policies. In 2015, for example, the General Office of the State Council of China issued the “Opinions on Supporting Migrant Workers and Others Returning to their Hometowns to Start Their Own Business” to encourage migrant workers, college students, and retired soldiers to return to their hometowns to start new businesses. in 2017 those efforts took off with the announcement of a “rural revitalization” strategy. That strategy seeks to make China self-sufficient in terms of food production and consumption and focuses on modernizing agriculture and rural areas by 2035. Policies and investments are designed to accomplish critical tasks like ensuring the grain supply, developing high-quality rural industries, increasing farmers’ incomes, and fostering a beautiful countryside. The strategy is encouraging a generation of “’new farmers,’ mostly well-educated young people with new ideas and skills,” to move from big cities to the countryside. In 2021, 1.6 million more people returned to the countryside than in 2019, with the government reporting that more than half of the entrepreneurial projects it supported focused on using livestreaming and other online methods to sell products. 

Taken together, these changes could encourage many more students and their families to stay where they are and to take advantage of the massive growth in higher education outside the major cities. With a decreasing population more distributed around the country there could be fewer students competing for an expanded number of places in colleges and universities. At the same time, if more youth recognize that academic competition is not yielding the access to elite universities or job prospects that previous generations expected – and they see that more studying does not necessarily lead to better results – academic pressure could subside further. 

New developments in curriculum, technology, and assessment?

A new set of curriculum standards and new textbooks may also help to fuel this shift, providing a policy context that can encourage many schools to pursue more student-centered learning. As one description of the changes put it, beginning in 2024 with the initial introduction of new textbooks, “compulsory education will enter a new era in which new curriculum standards, new textbooks, and new classrooms are mutually compatible, from the past ‘educating for scores’ and ‘educating for abilities’ to the comprehensive deepening of ‘educating people.’”

The new curriculum and textbooks continue to highlight the learning of subjects but promote a change in focus from “fragmented class objectives” to more integrated and systematic unit objectives, a new emphasis on the transfer and application of knowledge, and a transition from “practicing questions to solving problems.” The math textbook, for example, has added two “mini-projects” for each semester that are supposed to take up at least 3 lessons. The changes in the English textbooks create another niche of possibility for more interdisciplinary and student-centered learning by spending less time on grammar and organizing each unit around theme-based projects. Changes being made in the questions for the Gaokao to focus more on applications of knowledge and on problem-solving rather than on memorization could play an important part in this shift. 

Technological developments could also facilitate the development and spread of innovative practices by facilitating more personalized learning experiences and contributing to more powerful assessments. Although these new technologies and AI could be used to teach students more and more traditional content and skills more quickly, they could also help to make conventional instruction much more efficient. As the efforts of the teachers at the Suzhou Experimental Primary School demonstrated, AI could also create more space and time for student-centered learning experiences and to support the development of a much wider range of interests and abilities and student wellbeing. Of course, such technological development in schools depends on close cooperation between AI and tech companies and Chinese schools as well as the Chinese government’s continuing efforts to support digitization of schools and teaching in remote rural areas. 

As I have argued in “The power of condensing the curriculum,” all of these demographic, economic, political, technological and educational changes could create the opportunity and incentives to reduce the time spent on exam preparation and create more balanced school experiences. All of these are enormous “if’s,” however. Predicting generational attitudes, in particular, is far from an exact science and certainly not something to count on. As Yong Zhao, a well-known expert on educational change and China told me in my interview with him before my first trip, “China will not drop the Gaokao,” and taking the “tang ping” route for many is a risk that could have consequences like social isolation, diminished economic potential, and a lower standard of living. 

A perfect storm or just another typhoon? Changing society, changing beliefs, changing schools

In the end, real changes in the academic pressure, and expanding support for a wider range of abilities and student mental health and wellbeing in China, as in the US and education systems, depends on the “perfect storm” of changes in education policies, technologies, economic and demographic conditions, and changes in the deep-seated values and beliefs that sustain conventional school practices. 

As important as the Gaokao may be, by the time I left China I was convinced that the Gaokao is just an expression and manifestation of a basic belief that those who score the highest, those who work the hardest, deserve the riches they accumulate. In that sense, China may not be that different from the United States, where that same kind of belief in individual achievement sustains a highly inequitable system and the conventional modes of instruction and schooling it relies on. 

As Daniel Markovitz argues in The Meritocracy Trap, in the US, success in school and in life is generally seen as a product of an individual’s talent and effort. Similarly, failure – in terms of poor grades, the inability to get into a good college, get a good job, or make a good living – is often cast as a personal failing rather than a manifestation of systemic inequalities. From this perspective, those who score high on exams, secure admission to an elite college, become CEO’s or make billions of dollars deserve the rewards and riches they have attained. My conversations with many of my colleagues and many students in China seemed to echo these beliefs, as they noted that competitions and rankings, including the Gaokao, provide the best way to identify those who will be most successful despite the pressure and the problems it produces. Those beliefs also contribute to an internalization of failure and feelings of shame, with many students worrying that with poor performance in school or on the Gaokao they are letting their families down. 

Changing any education system depends on understanding the complex interplay of historical, geographic, demographic, economic, political, and cultural conditions that produced the schools, policies, and practices that operate today. But it also means confronting those conditions, while embroiled in them. We can look for leverage and open up opportunities for people to expand their views, question their values and beliefs, and develop alternative points of view that might support the emergence of new institutions, structures, and practices over time.  Perhaps these generational changes can support the emergence of a hybrid “East/West” approach to education that provides a better balance between a focus on academic achievement the development of a wider range of skills and students’ wellbeing.  

Could concerns about the academic pressure on students in China lead to real changes in conventional schooling? Stability & change in the education system in China (Part 4)

Can growing concerns about students’ mental health and wellbeing support the emergence of educational practices that combine a focus on academics with more student-centered pedagogies? In the fourth post of this five-part series, Thomas Hatch explores this question, prompted by his conversations with Chinese educators and visits to schools and universities in Beijing, Ningbo, and Dongguan. The first post in this series described the “niches of possibility” within the conventional Chinese curriculum and schedule where innovative schools are developing more student-centered approaches even within a heavily exam-based system. The second post discussed some of the changes in educational policies and regulations that created some flexibility within the system but may have contributed to academic pressures as well. The third post shared some examples of how teachers in a primary school in China are using AI to support students’ learning and engagement. The final post will discuss what can be learned from the ways that the Chinese education system has evolved over the past twenty-five years and how future changes could allow for the emergence of more student-centered instructional practices and more support for students’ wellbeing.

For other posts on education and educational change in China see “Boundless Learning in an Early Childhood Center in Shenzen, China;””Supporting healthy development of rural children in China: The Sunshine Kindergartens of the Beijing Western Sunshine Rural Development Foundation;” The Recent Development of Innovative Schools in China – An Interview with Zhe Zhang (Part 1 & Part 2);” “The Desire for Innovation is Always There: A Conversation with Yong Zhao on the Evolution of the Chinese Education System (Part 1 & Part 2);”“Surprise, Controversy, and the “Double Reduction Policy” in China;””Launching a New School in China: An Interview with Wen Chen from Moonshot Academy;”and ”New Gaokao in Zhejiang China: Carrying on with Challenges


When I arrived in China for the first time in May of 2025, it was already clear that education in China has changed, in numerous ways, both in the last 40 years and just in the last few years as well. As I detailed in the second post in this series, those changes have included the achievement of near universal enrollment through lower secondary school, dramatic increases in the number of students enrolling in college, and new policies and practices governing the Gaokao itself. But I heard over and over again that even with the many changes students today face significantly more academic pressure that previous generations. In the end, I’m left wondering: can the seemingly ever-increasing academic pressure in China increase demands – and opportunities – for developing a balanced education system that supports academic development as well as students’ overall wellbeing?

Academic pressure in China has gotten worse: The rise of “neijuan” and “tang ping”

I had only been in China a few days when several colleagues told me about the growth in the use of the terms “juan” and “tang ping.” “Juan,” when used in “Huā Juǎn/花卷” means “roll” as in a steamed bun known as a flower roll. But in recent years “juan” has been used to suggest that a person is being rolled in a washing machine the way we in the West might talk about being caught up “in the rat race,” constantly running like a rat on a spinning wheel. Yi-Ling Liu, writing in the New Yorker in 2021, linked the growth in the use of the term to a video showing a student from one of the top universities in China riding his bicycle and looking at his laptop at the same time. 

When I looked up “juan” online, I found a series of stories that explained that the term “nei juan” — represented by the characters for “inside” and “rolling” (内卷) and translated in English as “involution” – emerged as one the most popular Chinese words of 2020. The Chinese anthropologist Xiang Biao describes involution as a process of curling inward that can be considered the opposite of “evolution.” As he puts it, “neijuan” as an “endless cycle of self-flagellation,” in which people are trapped in a competition that everyone knows is meaningless. 

For students, it means that getting a high score on the Gaokao is not enough. It means that they also have to compete to get the highest possible grade point average and the most extensive resume. As explained in GPA is king: The prisoner’s dilemma for young people at China’s top universities: “Whether you can learn something or whether it is within your own interests is no longer the only evaluation criteria for engaging in activities. Its value on the resume must be considered. Therefore, this has become a kind of ‘roll’. In order not to fall behind classmates and fall into passivity, everyone has to fill their resumes as much as possible.” 

Over roughly the same period, the growth of the usage of “tang ping (躺平),” – translated literally as “lying flat” – represents a response to the pressure and the endless competition.  Supposedly, the movement began with a post on a social media site in April of 2021 where the user announced: “Lying flat is my wise movement. Only by lying down can humans become the measure of all things.” Since then, the use of “tang ping” has grown on social media as well, including in a series of posts in 2023 in which college graduates were photographed sprawled out in their commencement regalia. 

Photos from Chinese students graduating from college in 2023 Chinese college grads are ‘zombie-style’ on campus. Here’s why. Washington Post

In “China’s young ‘lie flat’ under social challenges,” Yao-Yuan Yeh explains that the term “describes the generations born in the late 1990s and 2000s who, disappointed by their lack of social mobility and economic stagnation, have decided not to strive for their futures.” One worker who embraced the term was quoted as saying: “According to the mainstream standard, a decent lifestyle must include working hard, trying to get good results on work evaluations, striving to buy a home and a car, and making babies. However, I loaf around on the job whenever I can, refusing to work overtime, not worrying about promotions, and not participating in corporate drama.”  

Interpretations of “tang ping” vary, however.  Some I spoke to used it to imply that students who checked out of classes or group activities were lazy or entitled and unwilling to do the work required of others. But “tang ping” also refers to those who drop out or disengage more as a form of resistance, a refusal to participate in the “roll” and “rat race” and all that they entail. Perhaps reflecting both interpretations at once, one survey of a nationally representative sample of adults in China found that, in general, “tang-ping related behaviors” were considered morally wrong, but they were considerable acceptable in scenarios where there was a low expectation that effort would be rewarded (such as working in a company that promised to pay performance bonuses but rarely did). 

Could growing concerns about student’s mental health and wellbeing create a better balance in Chinese schools?

Taken together, “neijuan” and “tang ping” illustrate an impossible choice for Chinese students – join in the endless competition for academic achievement or drop out and lie flat – without any guarantee that either will lead to a better life. Could this impossible choice propel innovation? Already, these growing pressures have contributed to the double reduction policy and greater attention to mental health. 

Although many parents in China have been reluctant to recognize or discuss problems of mental health, a widely cited survey from the Chinese Academy of Sciences in 2021 revealed that almost one out of four teenagers report depressive symptoms and a professor at the institute, Chen Zhiyan, said over one hundred studies over the past two decades reveal that mental health has gotten worse. A more recent survey from a Chinese think tank in 2023 also found that 26% of secondary school students said they have depressive symptoms once a week, 15% report symptoms twice a week or more. Media reports have also stated that over 7 million children between 4 and 16 suffer from mental or behavioral conditions and estimated that nearly 100,000 minors died from suicide annually. Anecdotally, clinics also report increased visits and hospitalizations, and an emergency psychological consultation hotline in Shanghai has seen a sharp rise in calls from students as well as parents seeking help for their children. 

In response, in 2020, the Chinese government introduced “depression assessments” as part of mandatory health screenings for high school students, and in 2021, the Chinese Ministry of Education issued a directive to strengthen professional support and scientific management, and strive to improve students’ mental health literacy.” Following that directive, the education authority in Beijing required primary and middle schools to incorporate mental health education in their curricula and to hire at least one dedicated counselor to address students’ psychological needs. In 2023, China established a National Advisory Committee for Students’ Mental Health to be “responsible for research, consultation, monitoring, evaluation, and scientific popularization of mental health work in universities, middle schools and primary schools across the country.” In addition, an official from the Chinese Ministry of Education declared “The whole of society has reached a consensus to strengthen the mental health education of students,” and the Ministry announced a series of guidelines to safeguard the mental health of young people. Key steps include:

  • Primary and secondary schools have to have at least one full-time or part-time teacher on mental health and universities are required to have at least two full-time psychology teachers.
  • Primary and secondary schools are encouraged to incorporate psychology courses into their curriculum, and universities are required to have compulsory courses on psychological health.
  • Counties need to conduct psychological evaluations at least once a year and establish mental health records for students from the senior levels of primary school and beyond, and universities are also expected to conduct mental health evaluations of all new students. 

The guidelines also reiterated key aims of the earlier double reduction policy and declared that “effective measures should be taken” to reduce homework and tutoring and to ensure students have two hours of physical exercise daily. The guidelines also noted that to ensure implementation, “students’ mental health will be taken into account when evaluating the work of provincial governments and administrators of all levels of schools.” As with changes to the Gaokao and the double reduction policies, the question is whether or not the pressure to change continues to grow.  Will the desire to support youth mental health and wellbeing continue to spread? Will educators and policymakers take advantage of this window of opportunity and extend and deepen these initial efforts? 

Next week – What Conditions Could Foster a More Balanced Education System? Stability & Change in the Education System in China (Part 5)

Education policies and academic pressure: Stability & change in the education system in China (Part 2)

Can real changes be made in a system dominated by exams and academic pressure? Thomas Hatch explores this question in the second post in a series drawing from his conversations with Chinese educators and visits to schools and universities in major urban areas like Beijing, Nanjing, Shenzen, Shanghai and Suzhou. The first post in this series described how some innovative schools in China are putting in place more student-centered learning experiences. Future posts will discuss the use of AI in an experimental primary school; increasing concerns about students’ mental health; and the technological and societal developments that may allow for the emergence of a more balanced education system. 

For previous posts on education and educational change in China see “Boundless Learning in an Early Childhood Center in Shenzen, China;” ”Supporting healthy development of rural children in China: The Sunshine Kindergartens of the Beijing Western Sunshine Rural Development Foundation;” The Recent Development of Innovative Schools in China – An Interview with Zhe Zhang (Part 1& Part 2);” “The Desire for Innovation is Always There: A Conversation with Yong Zhao on the Evolution of the Chinese Education System (Part 1& Part 2);” “Beyond Fear: Yinuo Li On What It Takes To Create New Schools (Part 1);” “Everyone is a volcano: Yinuo Li On What It Takes To Create A New School (Part 2);” “Surprise, Controversy, and the “Double Reduction Policy” in China;” ”Launching a New School in China: An Interview with Wen Chen from Moonshot Academy;” and ”New Gaokao in Zhejiang China: Carrying on with Challenges.”


I’ve always heard that Chinese schools – in the grip of the Gaokao, the college entrance exams that drive so much of the academic pressure in China – are unlikely to change. But during my visits to schools and universities there over the past two years, it was clear that education in China has changed, in numerous ways, both in the last 40 years and just in the last few years as well. Those changes include the achievement of near universal enrollment through lower secondary school and dramatic increases in the number of students enrolling in college – including a five-fold increase in the decade between 1999-2009. Enrollments in kindergartens have also risen over 25% since 2012, with more than 90% of preschool-age children enrolled in kindergarten by 2023. 

Expansion of higher education in China, 1999– of all eligible children in China 2015. China Statistical Yearbook n.d.

Along with those dramatic developments, China has made significant changes in educational policies that have helped to create the conditions – and “niches of possibility” – that can support more student-centered and innovative educational experiences at all levels of schooling. In fact, since 2001, the Guidelines for Pre-school Education have emphasized development of child-centered play. In addition, a new national pre-school law that took effect in 2025 specifically prohibits the introduction of an elementary school curriculum into kindergartens and pre-schools. For older students, changes in the Gaokao and in the regulations governing private schooling that created some flexibility to develop more innovative schools and learning experiences. At the same time, these kinds of changes in policies reflect somewhat conflicting purposes that have also contributed to the academic pressure and competition that continues to reinforce a focus on conventional academics.

Changes in the Gaokao

Although many of us in the US think of China as a centralized government that exercises tight control across the whole country, provincial and municipal governments also have considerable discretion, particularly when it comes to education. The regional differences in policies and policy enforcement may allow for the development of alternative educational approaches in some places rather than others. For example, the kinds of micro-schools that have emerged in the US since the pandemic, began to appear in some parts of China even before the school closures. Dali, described as China’s “hippie capital” or “Dalifornia,” became a popular destination for remote workers during the pandemic and others looking to get away from everyday pressures. It’s also a place where new, small educational programs, many unsanctioned, have sprouted for students who have dropped out or want to get away from the academic pressure.  

Children build a stove of mud and bricks for a school project.[Photo by Chi Xiao For China Daily]
Micro schools aim to make a major impact, China Daily

Among the most significant differences in educational regulations, local governments can even produce different versions of the Gaokao with different questions and cut-off scores.  That means that any central attempts to change the Gaokao have to be coordinated across regions.  For example, in 2014 to help reduce some of the academic pressure, the central Chinese government launched initiatives to provide students with more flexibility and choice in the exams. As Aidi Bian reported in “New Gaokao in Zhejiang China: Carrying on with challenges,” an Education Ministry document guiding the Gaokao reform specified that provinces were to adapt the reform based on local context. In Zhejiang, one of the first provinces to undertake the reforms, key changes included requiring only three compulsory exams – Chinese, mathematics, and English – and allowing students more choices in the three elective exams, which include subjects like chemistry, biology, geography, politics, history, and technology. In addition, instead of having to take all the tests once in June, students were allowed to take the elective subject tests starting in the second year of high school (in October and March). They can also take each elective subject test and English twice and use the highest grade for their admissions application. 

The changes did not always achieve their aims, however, as some have tried to “game the system” by choosing subjects that top students are less likely to take. In addition, taking some electives earlier may help some students but it also prolongs the Gaokao schedule and it means that the test pressure is distributed throughout the high school years.  Furthermore, reflecting the regional variations, only 8 of the 18 provinces that were originally scheduled to undertake the reform had started the new policy by 2018

Complicating matters further, over the years, different regions and municipalities have set different cut-off scores and created “extra-point” schemes to increase access to higher education for certain groups. Although the government has placed more restrictions on these schemes in recent years, historically, “bonus” points have been awarded to members of some minority ethnic groups to support their assimilation into society, to the children of Chinese who return from overseas, and to children of Taiwanese residents. Some provinces have also awarded points to those who demonstrate “ideological and political correctness” or have “significant social influence” including children of Revolutionary Martyrs, and some categories ex-servicemen  Many of those I spoke to also explained to me that students in some of the larger cities have a better chance to get into China’s top universities than their peers from around the country. That’s because Tsinghua University, Peking University, and other top institutions have admissions quotas that explicitly admit more students from urban centers like Beijing and Shanghai.   

These kinds of policies have been part of the expansion of higher education that has benefited those in all economic classes, but that has also fueled rising inequality and a growing rural-urban divide. Given these problems, the central government has advocated for the elimination of the Gaokao bonus schemes that contribute to these inequalities. However, these advantages are part and parcel of a paradoxical system that embraces exams and competition as the fairest and most transparent way to identify academic potential but can also allow for some special privileges and where some may try to “game the system.” The recognition of special privileges is reflected in the use of another term I frequently heard, guanxi, which refers to the importance of networks of trusted friends and families that can provide access to power and social and economic advantages. Although as an outsider I find it hard to understand how both the tradition of national entrance exams and guanxi can coexist, both are deeply rooted in Chinese history and culture, developing a thousand years ago in imperial China where the rule of law was not well-established and where many people had to rely on trusted family and friends for support and protection. 

Changes in policies related to private schooling

At the same time that there have been contradictory efforts to change the Gaokao, changes in education policies gradually allowed the development of private schools and encouraged foreign investment in the education sector. In concert with the changes in regulations that opened up the economy after 1977, school options for students expanded significantly, including the development of private primary and secondary schools that prepared students for admissions to universities in the UK, the US, and elsewhere. Those developments contributed to the establishment of 61,200 private schools by 2003, serving over 11 million students; but by 2020, that number had increased to almost 180,000 private schools enrolling more than 55 million students. Those numbers amounted to almost one third of all primary and secondary schools in China and almost one fifth of all students.  

In recent years, however, new regulations governing private education have reversed the expansion of private primary and secondary school options. In 2021, for example, a new “Law on Private Education” went into effect. The 68 articles of the new law restrict how education can be monetized; establish stronger oversight of private and non-profit operators of schools; and require the curriculum of private schools to align more closely with those of public schools with adherence to the national curriculum more strongly enforced.  In addition, foreign entities are prevented from having ownership stakes in Chinese private schools and foreign textbooks have been banned. Regulations promoting “patriotic education” in all schools have also been established. 

Within this changing policy context, the economic downturn, a declining population, and the COVID pandemic, the rush to open new private and international schools has been followed by a wave of school closures. To avoid closing, other private primary and secondary schools have tried to attract more students by diversifying their offerings. Those changes include offering programs that lead to entrance to Chinese universities in addition to their programs leading to other university qualifications. As one account of the changing landscape of international schools put it, “Whether it is a newly built international school or an old international school, “domestic college entrance examination courses + AP/A Level courses” and ‘domestic further study + overseas study’ have become high-frequency hot words in the enrollment brochures.” Ironically, these efforts to diversify their offerings contribute to the challenges that private schools face in trying to create a more balanced educational experience that distinguishes themselves from government subsidized schools.

Changes in tutoring and academic demands?

At the same time that the Chinese government put more limits on private schools, they also enacted the “Double reduction policy” which sought to address the increasing pressure on students and curb the explosive growth of the private tutoring sector. The policy, Opinions on Further Reducing the Burden of Homework and Off-Campus Training for Compulsory Education Students, both limited the amount of time students in primary school could spend on homework and banned most private tutoring (reflecting the “double” in double reduction).  

Following the initial implementation, some surveys reported that many Chinese parents agreed with the double reduction policies and felt their concerns about their children’s education had eased. At the same time, the restrictions mean that many teachers have had to take on more responsibilities, more work, and more pressure. One study, published after the policy went into effect found that over 75% of Chinese teachers experienced “moderate to severe anxiety” with almost 35% of primary teachers and over 25% of middle school teachers at high risk of suffering depression. Chinese policymakers have even acknowledged that teachers are “teachers are more tired” and “teachers’ anxiety has obviously increased compared to before.”

At the same time, the policy had an immediate impact in reducing the availability of private tutoring and other supplemental education programs, that, ironically, may have contributed to the stress and concern of the many students and parents who felt they needed extra support to compete in the exam-based system. Just seven months after the implementation of the policy, the Ministry of Education reported the closure of over 110,000 companies, almost 90% of the companies focused on in-person or online tutoring in primary and middle schools. Those changes in turn contributed to stock prices of many tutoring-related companies to drop by 90% or more. According to some accounts, one of the tutoring CEO’s, on his own, lost over 10 billion dollars because of the policy. With a corresponding loss of over 100 billion dollars in China’s education market, the closures contributed to dramatic reductions in the availability of related educations jobs in China and layoffs of hundreds of thousands of workers. A once growing market for English-speakers to tutor Chinese students online also dried-up almost overnight.  

Under these conditions, those tutoring-related companies that found ways to continue operating often did so with higher fees that can contribute to greater inequities. Correspondingly, some parents reported that the costs of private tuition have doubled for them, “Our burden has not been reduced at all,” one parent lamented, and described the situation using a common expression that likened the continuing competition for entrance into the top universities to “thousands of troops and horses pushing and shoving to cross a single-plank bridge.” 

In the latest set of complexities and contradictions, additional policy changes, particularly a decision to reduce the number of middle school students who can enter academically-oriented high schools have also increased the competition for high scores on the Zhongkao, China’s high school entrance exam. Implemented at least in part to address labor market shortages, the earlier policies on national vocational education development require that approximately 50% of high school students attend vocational high schools. But that reduction in the percentage of students who can attend the academic high schools, have led some to conclude that the Zhongkao is the new Gaokao, generating even more academic pressure on students and parents at an even earlier age. 

Later this month: Could concerns about academic pressure lead to real changes in conventional schooling?