I refuse to drop out of school
I was shocked to find that my friend Simiao wanted to drop out of school. 'I'm not going to get into a university. What's the point of staying in high school?' she shrugged. 'I will probably find a job and make a living anyway.'
Before I transferred in grade three, Simiao and I went to the same zidi primary school, a school for kids of company employees, mostly manual laborers. I didn't realize the education quality of the zidi schools was poor until I transferred to a school in the city.
There, I instantly knew I was behind. My new classmates took math olympiad classes, which I'd never heard of, and eighty percent of my new school's graduates went to top-tier junior highs. I was desperate to catch up. So I listened carefully to the teachers, did everything they suggested, and worked meticulously. I especially concentrated on Chinese and math, the subjects which played a big role in my upcoming junior high school entrance exams.
My efforts paid off. I got into a good junior high, and then a good high school. Lesson learned: a good education means the continuation of good education. What I have to do is concentrate on schoolwork, ignore the rest, and get good grades. Or so I thought.
'I want to drop out. I will probably find a job anyway.' Simiao's words kept echoing in my head, and had me thinking about the part of my future my teachers didn't talk about: what's beyond college? That part of my future seemed pretty much the same as Simiao's: find a job. Simiao and I had quite different educational experiences, but our educations were leading to the same boring end.
Is that all? Is the ultimate goal of the education I value so much only to get a high-salary job? I began to feel that I wanted more-not only knowledge, but . what?
While I was wondering this, I saw a flier for the United States Academic Decathlon. I was instantly attracted to USAD-teamwork on ten subjects and competition with students in China and the US sounded exciting. But as I walked towards the sign-up office, I started to worry. What if it interfered with my ordinary school work? I hesitated.
I was still hesitating about USAD when I saw my mother's friend, Mr Zhou, at a party with my parents. Seeing my distressed look, Mr Zhou asked me what was going on. Then he smiled and asked me: 'What do you think I majored in at college?'
'History.' I knew Mr Zhou was a history professor at Sichuan University.
'No, I majored in chemistry. I only realized my true love was history when I took an optional history course. I studied history in graduate school.'
'Then wasn't it a mistake to study chemistry?'
'I wouldn't have realized my true passion if I hadn't make this mistake. Life is full of accidents and mistakes. You can't always find your passion in a straightforward way. Whatever you do, take chances and try new things to discover yours.'
I joined USAD.
Preparation for USAD led me somewhere I couldn't have guessed: I fell in love with art history. At first, I was puzzled by even the most basic concepts, but the beauty of the artworks moved me. As I read about different movements and genres, I was amazed at how the Impressionists and others pushed the boundaries of art, even though they had to bear storms of criticism. Their passion kept pushing them forward.
Yeats says that true education is not filling a pail but lighting a fire. The end of my education is neither mere knowledge nor a mere job. It can also be the constant pursuit of passion. I've already been fortunate to have educational opportunities that some childhood friends have not. Now I want to use these opportunities to keep my fire burning.