It was in the course of growing up that I gradually came to understand the impact a good teacher can have on a student. This made me feel that teaching is truly a profession with a rare opportunity to exert an extraordinarily positive influence on others, and is therefore something to aspire to—even though I myself definitely don't measure up, and never thought about trying to meet the standard of a teacher.
My experience in middle school and before was painful. This pain is not to say there were no happy moments—no one can forget the intimate bond of walking life's first stretch of road alongside childhood companions. But the primary issue with schooling is the teacher-student relationship, just as the primary issue of a family is the relationship between husband and wife. I fully understand this, and I raise it not in a spirit of blame toward those involved. But on the whole, the teacher-student relationships I was in at that time were authoritarian, patriarchal in the feudal sense. This was not their fault—this is a problem of Chinese society, and it persists to this day. So although my grades were quite good—excellent, in fact, and without much effort—I did not enjoy that experience at all. It was an education whose primary purpose was to regulate people. That kind of education turned me from a student who was not particularly unruly into one who seemed like a troublemaker, because there were always flaws in me that they needed to correct. And education, to them, existed to correct these flaws. This is an absurd state of affairs, and our society may not yet fully recognize its absurdity even today.
Then I entered high school and met Teacher Huang. I liked Teacher Huang. He was the kind, gentle type who sometimes seemed a bit awkward with words. I remember once I was late. I've actually forgotten the specifics entirely—all I remember is him saying, "Ma Tao, my impression is that you never lie. What happened?" After I explained, he let me in and told me to be careful next time. Looking at this today, you might think it was just a matter of wording. But it wasn't a matter of wording. It was a matter of how to get along with people in a way that doesn't blame them, that doesn't reinforce power dynamics. The relief I felt in that moment was like a murderer who had been on the run for ten years and was finally caught. In my heart I thought: Teacher Huang, you have my word. Later, there was a crucial regular-season game for the Houston Rockets. I skipped afternoon study hall to watch the entire game. On my way back, I ran into Teacher Huang. He asked what happened. I said I was watching basketball. He said, "How can you watch basketball at a time like this? Get inside." So I went in to study.
Another time, seats were rearranged and I ended up sitting next to a female classmate. We got to chatting about something or other, and Teacher Huang noticed. He called me out and asked, "Were you discussing schoolwork?" I said no. He said that wouldn't do, and told me to switch to a different seat.
I think about these things often, and when I do, I feel a touch of sadness. After graduating from high school, I never contacted Teacher Huang again. I haven't had the courage to write about him either. Because I've always felt that in my life, he demonstrated by his own example a standard—that one person can have such a tremendous, positive influence on another. This is a standard for being human, and the person I have become falls far short of it in every way.
The help Teacher Huang gave me was perhaps not complicated from his perspective. It was simply his way of being in the world—it was his character. His character led him to treat others, and his students in particular, as independent individuals possessed of a certain nobility that transcends worldly standards. And as a student, to therefore strive to become such an independent person of a certain nobility—this may be the most important thing I have encountered in my life.