A group of first- and second-graders are filing into school on a weekday morning. Dressed in matching white shirts over blue shorts or skirts, they trudge quietly with their heads down. Each carries a heavy bookbag. The camera focuses in on one who dawdles at the entrance of the school, slowly sipping a carton of soybean milk next to his mother's scooter. On the steps of the school, one little girl is stopped on her way to class. An adult voice asks, “Do you like going to school?” She shakes her head, “No.”
The film cuts to another scene in which a teacher stands at the front of a classroom speaking into a microphone and writing figures on a blackboard. The junior high school students sit in straight rows, with only their textbooks on their desks. The only sound is the teacher's voice. In another scene from a math class, the teacher calls out multiplication problems and the students respond in unison, giving the correct answers again and again. Their voices blend together, as methodical and passionless as a Buddhist chant.
These scenes are taken from the 1992 documentary Happy Childhood, produced by Huang Wu-hsiung (黃武雄), a professor of mathematics at National Taiwan University. The film, which features footage of classrooms around Taiwan and commentary by Huang on the need for educational reform, has been seen by thousands of parents and teachers since its release. Huang aims to show that many Taiwan children lead unhappy childhoods because the school system places too much pressure on them to compete and does not give them enough opportunity to develop individual talents, ideas, and interests. “Our education system produces good 'operators' – people with strong skills in doing things,” he says. “But we do not produce 'pioneering' talents, people who can start new things. Why? Because our students' creativity has been squelched by the uniformity demanded at schools!”
Huang is not alone in these criticisms. He has tapped into long-standing dissatisfaction with the school system to gather the support of thousands of parents and teachers. After taking a sabbatical in 1992 to produce the documentary, Huang traveled around the island the next year to show the tape and speak on the need for reform. By early this year, the movement had gathered momentum, and on April 10, Huang and supporters formed the Educational Reform League and staged Taiwan's first large-scale demonstration for educational reform. The protest attracted twenty thousand people, who gathered in Taipei's Sun Yat-sen Memorial Hall for a day of speeches, videotapes, and skits illustrating problems with the current system. Dozens of schools and several educational foundations took part.
At the end of the rally, supporters staged a Road to Higher Education march. To illustrate the difficulties students face in entering high school and college, the marchers were made to pass through many obstacles representing the entrance exams and the humiliating traditional punishments used in schools. The march ended at the Legislature, where the league delivered a Manifesto on Educational Reform to legislators. They listed four demands: modernize the education system, reduce the size of classes and schools, alleviate the competition to enter high school and college by building more secondary schools, and form a comprehensive education law.
The event dominated the television and print media for several days, building more public support. Since then, educational reform has remained one of the hottest news stories of the year. Supporters of the status quo point out the beneficial aspects of the traditional system – namely that the examination system is fair, that Taiwan students routinely rank among the world's best, and that the current system stresses discipline and moral values. But a growing number of parents and teachers say local youngsters are overworked, unhappy, and are taught under a system that crushes creativity and individual thinking. Although thoughts vary widely on how much the system should be changed, most parents support some degree of change.
Chen Jui-feng (陳瑞峰), who has one child in primary school and another injunior high, expresses the frustrations felt by many parents. “In the classroom, usually the teacher lectures and students just listen – there is hardly any group discussion or interaction among the teacher and students,” he says. “Without active participation, I don't think students can acquire learning skills. The current lecturing style just overwhelms them with input. It actually makes them lose interest in learning.”
In the past, many parents with such views tried to get their children out of the local educational system entirely by sending them abroad to study. Accurate statistics are impossible to generate, but in 1984 an estimated 2,300 kids between six and fifteen left the country to study overseas, mostly to the United States and Canada. In 1991, the number soared to approximately 20,000. “The main reason that parents drop their kids in foreign countries is because of the pressure of testing into high school,” says Lin Chia-hsing (林家興), author of Parachute Kids. “In order to be fair, all universities and colleges must use the joint entrance exam system to determine who should be admitted. But only 20 to 50 percent are admitted, which means that 50 to 80 percent are denied a college education. How can you ask taxpaying parents not to complain?”
The long school day starts early, with a morning gathering of all students for the national anthem and a flag-raising ceremony.
Even among parents who have not sent their children abroad, an increasing number are seeking local alternatives to the regular school system. Those whose children hold foreign passports have put their kids into Taiwan's foreign schools. At the Taipei and Kaohsiung American schools, for instance, a large portion of the students are children whose parents are ROC citizens. Parents like these schools for the small classes, liberal teaching style, and superior facilities. For kids without foreign citizenship, several alternative elementary schools have also opened in recent years. At the Forest School, a boarding school for elementary students, for example, parents pay US$9,200 a year so their children can enjoy the school's small classes and interactive teaching style. Parents are willing to pay the high cost for a system that fosters independent thinking and that allows their kids to escape the competition in public schools.
Reformers say the crux of the problem with the local schooling system is the highly competitive high school entrance exam. The compulsory education system covers grades one through nine. After junior high (which includes seventh, eighth, and ninth grades), students can quit school or try to gain admittance to a high school, vocational school, or five-year junior college. The most popular choice is to try to test into a public high school, which is considered the surest route to a good college or university. Because space is limited, only those students scoring in the top third on the entrance exam are admitted into high school. Those who do not make it can take the test an unlimited number of times, but it is only given once a year. More often, students opt to try to test into a private high school, junior college, or vocational school.
Elementary students still have time for non-academic activities, but once junior high starts, the balance shifts heavily toward stiff academic competition.
The pressure to do well on the high school entrance exam begins long before students reach junior high. Some parents send their children to evening or weekend cram schools as early as first or second grade so they can get extra help in math, English, or other tested subjects. And once they begin junior high, the pressure to prepare for the test becomes intense. “There's a big difference between primary school and junior high,” says Wu Ming-ching (吳明清), a professor at the Graduate Institute of Elementary Education at Taipei Teachers College. “Primary schools can maintain a balanced curriculum. But under the pressure of the entrance examination, the goal for junior high switches to passing the big exam. Everything revolves around sending these kids to high school” With that pressure, he points out, teachers give increasing numbers of tests and sometimes forego art and PE classes in favor of extra pre-test cram sessions.
One ugly side effect of the competitive spirit is that many parents finagle to send children to one of the handful of top-ranked metropolitan junior high schools, even though attendance is determined only by the district in which students live. To get around the rules, parents register their children with relatives or friends living in the proper district. Tunhua Junior High in Taipei is one such sought-after school. To control the number of students admitted, the school has had to create new rules for applicants, such as giving families that own their home priority over those who rent.
Although the pressure isn't on yet for these Hsiulang primary school kids, only one-third of them can expect to make it into public high school.
Another negative offshoot of the competition is class segregation. Upon entering seventh grade, students are given a test. Based on their scores, they are supposed to be divided evenly among classes, so that each class contains a range of A-to-D students. But some schools, although against official regulations, separate students into above-average, average, and below-average classes instead. This allows the school to focus on the top-ranked students so that it can increase its chances of attaining a good reputation by boasting a high level of students who test into high school.
Meanwhile, the low-ranked students are lumped together in “shepherd” classes, so named because these students are deemed to have only enough potential to become shepherds. Most often, these classes are taught by teachers who resent receiving such a poor assignment. It is a cruel system, says biology teacher Yeh Hsiu-pen (葉秀盆), who once taught at a school with such classes. “Students who are not cut out for exams are labeled 'bad.' Teachers give up on them and they sort of give up on themselves.”
Huang Wu-hsiung views the shortage of high school openings as a violation of basic rights. “There's nothing wrong with wanting to enter high school, but not having an opportunity to go or going to high school just for the sake of going are both wrong,” he says. “Almost all junior high graduates take the entrance exam, but only about 30 percent can enter high school. Can you imagine how fierce the competition is? No wonder parents fight to get their kids into the top junior high schools. No wonder schools segregate their students.”
Teachers say the testing system also places many constraints on the way they teach. They have no choice but to adopt a lecture format because the standardized curriculum is packed with materials covered on the exam. “In order to keep on schedule and include as much extra material as possible, we don't have time to allow the students to explore and discover the right answers for themselves,” says Chen Shu-fen (陳淑芬), a junior high math teacher in Taipei. “We tend to explain the principles, list a bunch of formulas or shortcuts, then ask the students to do a lot of problems at home.”
The pressure on teachers is heightened by the large number of students in their classes. Ministry of Education (MOE) statistics for 1993 show that about one-third of primary school and junior high classes contain more than forty-five students, and some contain the maximum student number-fifty-two per elementary school classroom, forty-eight per junior high class. In addition, the maximum number of classes per school is forty-nine, but 12 percent of primary schools and 27 percent of junior highs exceed the class-per-school limit.
Hsiulang Primary School in the Taipei suburb of Yungho has 8,700 students and the average class size is forty-five. Overcrowding has been reduced since the school built additional stories – before that, students used the classrooms in morning and afternoon shifts – but the big numbers still cause logistical problems. There are daily traffic jams as school begins and lets out, unleashing a stampede of students leaving the school to meet parents waiting on scooters or in cars. “Worst of all, overcrowding has a negative impact on the relationship between teachers and their students,” says principal Chan Cheng-hsin (詹正信). “In a class of more than forty students, a teacher can't pay attention to individual needs. Classroom management consists of maintaining order.”
Large classes and a full curriculum have helped to perpetuate the tradition of strict discipline in the schools – another focus of criticism from reformers. “From the first day our kids start school, they are made to sit in arranged rows and are told to respect order and authority above all else,” says Huang Wu-hsiung. “We have all these rituals in school, such as the flag-raising ceremony, slogan shouting, and hygiene and dress-code checks. The students are too confined.”
Students also complain of rigid regulations and harsh punishment. “It's like we're in the military,” says ninth-grader Ku Fu-chi (辜富祺). “Conformity is valued above everything. A little creativity with your hairdo or wearing socks that aren't white will get you in trouble. And we must respect authority – not saluting a teacher will get you scolded, too.”
Uniforms, hair styles and even fingernails are subject to daily classroom checks.
Dress codes have a long tradition in Taiwan schools. All students wear uniforms from primary school through high school. During the years under martial law, 1949 to 1987, students obeyed strict hair codes as well; boys wore crew cuts, girls kept their hair cropped above earlobe level. Some schools even required that hair be parted only on the right, or that girls wear only black hairpins. Nowadays there are fewer restrictions, but most schools still require that boys keep their hair neatly trimmed and that girls do not perm their hair or let it grow beyond shoulder length.
Educators such as Lin Ming-ching (林銘清), director of discipline at Tunhua Junior High School, believe some regulations are beneficial. “Dress codes and hair codes do have advantages,” he says. “Kids don't spend too much time choosing what to wear to school and how to style their hair. Also, they won't compete with each other in their material possessions. They won't feel the pressure to buy Guess jeans or a DKNY jacket.”
Lin believes the school system has already relaxed its discipline system. “We try to understand why a student violates a regulation first and then decide on the punishment,” he says. “Physical punishment is not allowed, but I know it is used sometimes. Still, the most popular punishment is giving students a demerit, making them stand for a period of time, or having them do some cleaning-nothing drastic.” But Lin believes that the time has come for discipline directors – a traditional position in elementary,junior high, and high schools – to shift the emphasis of their jobs away from punishment and toward counseling.
An even more widespread criticism of the education system is that the textbooks used throughout the compulsory education system are outdated. Schools islandwide use a single standardized series of textbooks in order to ensure that all students receive the same preparation for the entrance exams. The National Institute of Compilation and Translation (NICT) has been in charge of developing all teaching materials for primary and secondary schools since the early 1950s. The institute's editing committee develops and edits the textbooks according to guidelines set by the MOE.
The process has loosened slightly in recent years. In 1989, the MOE began allowing junior high schools to choose their textbooks from among a selection of approved books, but only for those courses not included on the high school entrance exam. The program was expanded to primary schools in 1991. In all other courses, teachers continue to use texts created by the NICT. In the past, these books were criticized for including gender stereotypes, such as one first-grade text that read, “Every day when I get up, Mom is tidying up and Dad is reading the paper,” or for including incorrect and insensitive descriptions of Taiwan's indigenous people as “happy people” or as headhunters. Some of the offensive sections have been revised, but reformers still argue that the books are out of date. The elementary school texts were last updated in 1977,junior high texts in 1984. “Society has changed quite a lot in recent years,” says one junior high history teacher. “Martial law has been lifted. I think it's about time to update the teaching materials.”
Primary-school principal Chang Su-chen (張素貞) says a single set of textbooks does not suit all students. “Students should be taught according to their level,” she says. “If a student is good at math, he should join a class in which the teacher uses above-average materials.” She recommends developing at least four sets of texts to suit students of different levels of understanding in each subject.
In the onslaught of criticism against the education system, the main target of protest has been the Ministry of Education. Reformers have charged that the ministry is uncooperative and old-fashioned, but officials counter that they have been reforming the system – although cautiously – for years. “The MOE has consistently carried out reforms in the past, but none on a mass scale,” says Lin Lai-fa (林來發), director of the elementary education department for the MOE. “That's why most people haven't noticed.” Lin adds that the MOE is willing to change faster. “Our country is now in a transitional period and society is becoming more and more diverse,” he says. “It's a good time to review our educational system and traditions.”
The MOE has introduced several alternatives to the highly competitive high school entrance exam. Among the students that entered seventh grade in 1990, more than 2,600 were chosen to participate in a “self-selected schooling” program. Last year, these students completed ninth grade (the final year of compulsory education), and were allowed to seek admittance into high school, junior college, or vocational school based solely on their junior high grades. Among that first group, more than 50 percent went to vocational school, about 30 percent to high school, and about 16 percent to junior college. This summer, another set of 6,000 graduated under this system. Although the program is popular among students, it has evoked controversy because it is based on grading systems, which vary widely from teacher to teacher. It will not be expanded until it has been reviewed in 1996.
A second alternative to the exam is under way for junior high students on Kinmen island. Students there are not exempt from the exam, but their test score only counts for part of their performance evaluation. The bulk of the evaluation is based on their junior high grades.
Twenty thousand people turned out for the first large-scale demonstration for educational reform, held in April. The march ended with a list of demands being presented to the Legislature.
The MOE has also laid out plans for reducing the size of classes and of schools. In 1993, it proposed a two-stage, six-year project aimed at capping the size of all classes at forty-five students by 1996, and at forty by 1998. To address the need for smaller schools, the MOE is constructing new junior high schools. “But we have to take it step by step,” says Lin Lai-fa. “One problem is that parents try all possible ways to squeeze their kids into the so-called top schools even though they do not live in the surrounding district.” To stop this practice, the MOE is trying to improve the schools that lack good reputations by renovating the buildings, improving the water supply, and upgrading the facilities. “I think if the environment is improved, those schools will attract more students,” he says.
In late June, the MOE sponsored the Seventh National Conference on Education, a large-scale conference held irregularly to discuss the status and future of the educational system. About 450 participants attended the conference, including scholars, educators, educational administrators, private educational organizations, legislators, and student representatives.
At the end of the four-day conference, several resolutions were drawn up. The MOE agreed to begin allowing private textbooks in primary schools for all subjects within a few years, as long as the texts are approved. The ministry also promised to legalize alternative schools, which use different curricula and teaching styles, and to draw up laws covering alternative schooling. It also promised to increase the number of high schools by expanding some junior highs to include high schools and by expanding some vocational schools to offer both vocational and regular high school classes.
In July, the Executive Yuan established an education committee to implement the resolutions of the conference within two years. The group, which consists of twenty-odd scholars, entrepreneurs, private sector organizations, and parents, but no representatives from the MOE, was created to point out problems and to suggest new solutions.
Do these changes mean that parents can expect a better school experience for their children? Chen Jui-feng believes so. “My experience at school was awful,” he says. “At that time, students had to take an exam to enter junior high, so my primary school teachers were even stricter than they are today. They used all kinds of punishments on us: I was spanked, pinched on the cheek, made to kneel in front of the class. I don't want my kids to go through that. Sometimes I think about emigrating abroad or spending a fortune to send my kids to foreign or alternative schools, but I try to keep my hopes up."
Chen says the new reform movement and the recent national conference on education have strengthened his faith in the system. “Now I feel that society, both the public and private sectors, is reaching a consensus that we need reform,” he says. “If the public decides to support change, the government will have to change. So I am optimistic that it will get better.”