A Special Skill for the Lively Ones
Updated on 2017-02-05:
A few days ago, I happened to meet a senior who also attended the same university as me. During a casual chat, he asked me which high school I went to. I said, “Huanghe.” He exclaimed, “Then you must have been the top student in your school!”
Since starting university, I’ve been asked this question many times by local Xi’an classmates. The responses are either exclamations like the one above or simply not knowing about the high school.
Honestly, I wish I could say, “I was the last in my class in high school.”
Explanation of the Title
The title contains two very colloquial words: 活宝 (lively ones) and 绝活 (special skill). Although those who understand will understand, I still feel it’s necessary to explain, which is also a responsible thing to do.
These two words definitely carry a strong personal touch—they were catchphrases of my high school homeroom teacher, Old Cao. Having studied under Old Cao, you probably heard such phrases countless times over the three long years. But even three years after graduation, I dare not say I have mastered his teachings. It’s more like standing at the doorway, sticking my head in to take a look. As for what kind of door it is, and what a door even is, I hope you will ponder carefully.
This piece is dedicated to all my younger schoolmates from high school.
Self-Introduction
Due to some not-fully-formed professional habits, I don’t want to place too many restrictions on the readers of this article. Therefore, I won’t make more restrictive assumptions about you than simply being my younger schoolmates—I shouldn’t be seen as a senior three years older, nor six years older.
With this in mind, I hope you will simply regard me as the basic, label-free person I describe myself to be—I hope you can clearly understand the purpose of my writing this article.
Sima Zhao’s Intentions
As for why I’m writing this, I’ve struggled with it for a long time but could never find a proper reason to present a dedication to others. We are so contradictory: how capable must a person be to have the qualification to stand at a certain height and educate others? He neither needs this qualification nor can he ever truly attain it.
So, I’ll simply stop worrying about the qualification issue. I’m writing because there’s a long-hidden impulse within me to share life experiences. But deep down, I feel that by telling you, I can also summarize and account for (my past) self: mutual benefit is not a bad thing.
Among Any Three People, There Is Always a Teacher
In high school, I considered myself incredibly smart. To this day, I’ve never admired someone solely because of their intelligence. Still, I enjoy interacting with smart people because communication is easier. But back then, I didn’t understand the difference between being smart and being young.
In my first year of high school, there was a classmate we called J. J’s mind was exceptionally sharp, so much so that even I thought he was smart back then. Where there’s brilliance, there’s mutual appreciation. High school textbooks are one-sided and full of holes (knowledge gaps), especially in physics, chemistry, and biology. On almost every page, you could find questions hinted at but not explained. So, we would take these questions to the teachers’ office next door to bother them—a highly commendable learning attitude. Sometimes, the teachers would think for a moment and give us the answer; other times, they would brush us off with reasons like "This won't be on the college entrance exam."—Looking back now, maybe our questions were indeed too tricky. But at the time, we immediately elevated it to the level of "China's education system is a factory that produces garbage." We were really too clever.
We quickly became inflated, J even more so. Perhaps because of this, when I think of J now, all that remains is his habit of mentioning "IQ" every three sentences and his utterly conceited phrase, "A bunch of idiots."
This is thinking without learning.
Indeed, I often pondered questions about the stars and the cosmos until midnight. My heart held the sun and moon, but I didn’t understand the principle that "A steed's single leap cannot cover ten paces; a nag traveling for ten days succeeds through perseverance." This was a pitfall I stepped into. J’s attitude clearly fell prey to the so-called "Chinese cramming education," but I ultimately didn’t degenerate along with J.
In my second year, I changed classes and met another classmate. Let’s call him Y. Y studied extremely diligently and was a rule-following student. I don’t know how late Y studied every day or if he did anything besides study after returning home—these things are unknown to me. But at school, every time I saw Y, except during periods like morning exercises that couldn’t be used for studying, Y was diligently and earnestly working hard: taking meticulous notes in class—without even reading them, I could guess he wrote down every word the teacher wrote on the blackboard, perhaps including typos; diligently doing homework after class, and whenever he encountered a problem he didn’t understand—roughly once per problem (excluding those already done)—he would ask the top students in the class or the teacher, completely disregarding whether they were chatting with others or doing work that shouldn’t be easily interrupted. Y often had questions during class about something the teacher just explained: not understanding what it meant, when in fact that part had just been covered, while Y was busy copying the previous board notes—if you copy every single word, you can never keep up with the teacher.
I often lamented that if I had half of Y’s diligence, there would be nothing I couldn’t accomplish. Yet Y himself, in my view, achieved nothing. On the surface, he appeared hardworking and diligent, but in reality, it was dull and rigid—I call it an advanced form of laziness. Apart from the part of his brain used for rote memorization, the rest probably went unused.
This is learning without thinking.
"Learning without thinking leads to confusion; thinking without learning leads to peril." We are familiar with many such sayings, understand their meanings, but are unwilling to carefully ponder the principles they contain. Because we don’t grasp these principles, we all tend to lean toward either J or Y to some extent, becoming tragic figures. Either we are unrecognized talents, buried geniuses, or we lack internal understanding and external application, achieving nothing in three years.
Swift Horses Are Common
I hope to share my thoughts in the previously agreed-upon capacity, but I don’t want to preach by listing principles. As mentioned before, words are the finger, and the principles contained between the lines are the bright moon. Pointing at the moon with a finger often makes people mistake the finger for the moon. It’s better to guide you to find it yourselves.
One who harbors thunder in the breast yet maintains a calm countenance is fit to be appointed a supreme general.
This quote is from The Art of War. May we all strive together.