It's All About the Ivy

Yesterday afternoon, I went to Shanghai Children's Hospital to volunteer as part of an organization I joined called HandsOn Shanghai.  I've been trying to find worthwhile ways of filling up some of my free time, and this struck me as a perfect combination of doing good while also forcing myself to use my Chinese.  The staff and volunteers are almost all Chinese (which I didn't realize until I showed up to the orientation meeting last month only to discover that the entire presentation was to be conducted in Chinese).  The events are scattered throughout the week but are primarily on nights and weekends, to accommodate day jobs.  They primarily consist of assisting two groups of people: sick children, and elderly in nursing homes.

The event yesterday was simply to sit with the kids and help them play games, draw in coloring books, do puzzles, and the like.  The kids were all very cheerful, if not a little shy (remember, I apparently look like a monster to most of them), and most of them were quite eager to get on with the puzzles, drawing, and toys, without much assistance from little old me.  In fact, the group of people most interested in my presence were the families, all of whom were just floored by my ability to communicate with them.  One of the available toys was a sort of Etch-a-Sketch with a stylus instead of knobs.  After several parents asked me if I could write characters, in addition to speaking, I started using the thing to write simple sentences like "I am an American," and "I am 24 years old," which received loud ooohs and ahhhs.  As it turned out, I was just as much of a distraction for the parents as I was for the kids -- an unintended benefit, I think.  It was...cool, I guess, to do something that normally leaves me frustrated and discouraged, and have a bunch of people express pleasure in it instead.

As it happens, my fellow volunteers also appeared more interested in me than the kids were.  Similarly excited to meet a foreigner with competent Chinese skills, my three co-volunteers went through the standard getting-to-know-you questions (these are the same in both Chinese and English, except some people ask "你属什么?" ("Ni shu shenme?") which means "What sign of the Chinese Zodiac do you belong to?").  The conversation was quickly sidetracked when I was asked where I went to school, to which I replied, "Bin Da," the Chinese name for Penn.

All three of the girls made noticeable facial gestures suggesting amazement if not a little awe.  One of them gasped, audibly.  After she gathered herself, the gasper, who turns out was a senior in high school, told me that she was DESPERATE to go to an Ivy League school in the US but didn't think she would get in.  After the other two explained that they want to go to Cornell for graduate study after they finish at their current university in Shanghai, the conversation sort of moved on (for which I was grateful), until several minutes later, when I noticed the gasper sort of staring at me.  I turned from the little boy whom I was helping assemble a particularly difficult 10 piece puzzle, and looked at her.

"What did you get on your SATs?" she asked?

Pretty sure that's the first time I've been asked that question since my best friends in high school asked (we were a competitive bunch).  "Um...I did well," I said.

"Like.  Over 2000?"

"Um....yeah."

"Like.  2400?"  She was relentless.

"Um...Not quite."

This seemed to make her happy, so I took the opportunity to turn away from her and focus my undivided attention on congratulating the boy, who had just finished his puzzle.  The conversation left me thinking, though.  I wasn't really sure how I was supposed to feel.  A small part of me was not-so-secretly pleased to actually have someone recognize my alma mater and not assume it's Penn State, or in Harrisburg.  On the other hand, I felt as if I had stumbled upon evidence of the "Tiger Mom" culture in East Asia.  The poor girl had her sights set on the Ivy League, and based on her questioning it seemed as if not much else mattered to her.  There are surely high school students like that in the States as well.  But it strikes me as unfortunate for anyone who grew up here, to set their sights so firmly high, and I found myself assuming that it was due at least in small part to the influence of her parents.  As I found out from her, the SAT isn't even offered in mainland China, so Chinese kids wishing to take it must travel at least as far as Hong Kong to sit for the test.  This naturally suggests that those who do take the test and apply to go to US universities, are doing so at their parents behest, and with significant monetary support, something that most Chinese families obviously can't provide.

The conversation reminded me of Mark, the Chinese college freshman whom I met in Nanjing.  He had a similar reaction when I told him that I went to Penn, his mouth opening in surprised recognition.  "You mean...Ivy??" he asked, in broken and incredulous English.  It isn't so much about Penn, I realized, but the Ivy League, which seems to exist at mythic heights in the eyes of Chinese students.  I suppose this isn't breaking news, or even specific to China.  After all, there are overachieving high school students in the US who, partially if not primarily because of their helicopter parents, cultivate a Harvard-or-bust mentality.  It just struck me as a bit odd to be discussing SAT scores in the middle of a children's hospital.