中国教育是如何毁了我们的？｜独白稿 by 锡兰
今天这期视频比较特别，我们要来讲讲我们最爱的国家：中国。很多人说：“锡兰你怎么从来不说中国的事？你是不是不敢讲中国？”没错，今天我就讲中国了。讲完之后我可能真的回不去上海了，但没关系。
其实，我想拍这支影片，是因为我最近一直在做心理咨商。如果你有看过我之前那支讲“心灵课程”的影片，你就知道我为什么会咨商——那阵子我很愤怒，那个愤怒给了我很大的驱动力。但影片发出之后，那股动力突然消失了。我开始好奇，那段时间我到底是在愤怒什么？为什么我的生命总是在“对某种体制深感愤怒”时，才感到活着？但这种动力，持续不下去。
在心理咨商中，我开始重新回看我的成长经历。我以前从没觉得自己的成长有多复杂，但这几个月，我开始意识到：其实挺复杂的。今天，我想谈的，是“中国学校是怎么毁了我们的”。
我在中国上学，从小学一年级一直到初中八年级——也就是完整的义务教育。我休学一年后，高中才转去上海的国际学校。但每次回想起中国学校的那些事，我就感觉——那不是学校，那是个“心灵创伤制造机”。我们很少谈中国学校到底是怎么让我们变成现在这样的。不仅是因为我们不知道“哪里不对”，更多时候是，就算我们感觉到了痛，我们也没有一个可以清晰说出来的语言。我们没办法准确描述：“它怎么错的？”
更糟的是，我们还会内化那一整套教育体制给我们的message。我们把自己的焦虑、抑郁、社恐、没动力，都当成是自己的问题，而不是整个教育系统有病。我想讲这些，不是为了抱怨，而是为了我们可以更自由地表达真实的自己。表达“真实的自我”本身，在任何环境下都是有风险的，尤其当你不知道对方是不是一个“可以接住你”的人时。
（中间插播VPN广告略去）
好，我们回到主题：我在中国学校是个怎样的小孩？其实，我小时候就很有个性，很讲独立性，但脾气也不好。情绪来得很快、很猛。老实讲，在进入学校之前，我可能就已经不是一个“健康的小孩”了。但中国学校并没有帮我变好，只是加剧了我原有的问题。
为什么？因为中国学校最在意的是“从众”和“服从”。从小到大，你被鼓励去成为某一种人：三好学生、听话孩子、老师的乖宝宝。你可以有一点点个性，但前提是：成绩好 + 听话。如果你这两个都不达标，你的“个性”就一文不值，甚至会被整个班级一起羞辱。那种环境，真的很残忍。升旗时，一排排小孩像兵马俑一样站着。你真以为他们每一个人都“发自内心”地热爱祖国、想成为少先队员？我不信。我们从很小的时候就学会了一个事：你内心真正想要的东西，是“不被鼓励的”，甚至是“可耻的”。所以我们学会了“表演”。进入学校的第一天，我们就必须开始扮演，而不是成为“自己”。
后来我看了一个YouTube频道《安东尼看世界》，他用AI声音讲中国体制、讲从众文化、讲教育里的“人格塑形”。我越看越愤怒，因为他说的每一点，我都经历过。我开始意识到，我小时候的那种羞耻、那种不安，很多都来自这个系统。
比如作文课。你记得小时候写作文吗？什么“我的家乡”、“我的妈妈”、“一件快乐的小事”——听起来是鼓励真情实感，但你真写出自己的情感？试试看？你会被骂“不健康”。所以我们学会了写假的作文，套模板。我的模板是这样的：我看到小区地上满是塑料袋，心生一念要清理它，汗流浃背中感到红领巾更鲜艳——你听听这啥玩意儿？但它能拿高分。真正的我，写我喜欢打篮球、喜欢朋友，老师说我“太顽皮”，不够“崇高”。Excuse me？我8岁，我有什么“崇高”？作文只是个例子。阅读理解也一样。在中国学校，你必须答“标准答案”，不管你怎么看那篇文章，只要你没写出老师要的“作者思乡之情”，你就是错的。不是训练你怎么思考，而是训练你“怎么揣测老师的心”。
而当我到了国际学校，我才第一次意识到：原来阅读理解可以是自由的。你可以提出自己的观点，只要你能用文本佐证它，它就成立。这件事带给我的震撼很大。因为在中国学校，我从未被允许真正拥有“我的解读”“我的思考”“我的故事”。你可能会说：“你这外国佬有特权，不玩这个游戏，就在这喷。”但你知道吗？很多人不是特权阶级，不是成绩最好的那一批，只是一直紧抓那一套“标准”，因为它能给他们一种“人生有方向”的错觉。松动那套价值体系，意味着你得重新思考你是谁。而这，比任何一次高考还难。
我说这些，不是否定中国社会的物质现实。科举制度也许有它存在的意义。但我们不能只有一种声音，不能只谈“效率”、“上升路径”、“人生规划”。我们也该谈灵魂，谈我们怎么看自己，谈我们是如何一步步被教导去否定那个真实的自己。所以我拍了这支影片。
最后我也很好奇，如果你是台湾观众，你听到这些中国学校的故事，有没有共鸣？还是你觉得很陌生？你们的教育又是怎样的？欢迎你在评论区分享。我不是常说这些，但我真心期待你们的留言。如果你喜欢这类讨论，留言告诉我，也许我们以后再继续聊聊《安东尼看世界》，聊聊《被讨厌的勇气》。
我们下支影片见，拜拜。
How Chinese Education Destroyed Us – A Monologue by Ceylan
Today’s video is a little different. We’re going to talk about our favorite country—China. That’s right. People always ask, “Ceylan, why do you never talk about China? Why do you only criticize Taiwan? Are you afraid to talk about China?” Well, here it is. I’m talking about China. After this video, maybe I really won’t be able to go back to Shanghai—but so be it.
The reason I’m making this video is because I’ve been going through therapy lately. If you’ve watched my video about the “spiritual course,” you’ll know that it triggered a lot of anger in me at the time. That anger gave me a huge push to create. But after I put the video out, that drive just disappeared. So I started to ask myself: What was I so angry about? And why does my life seem to operate on this cycle—where I need to feel deep rage toward some system in order to feel motivated? That realization made me look deeper into my upbringing. I used to think my childhood wasn’t that complicated. But over the past few months, I’ve realized—it’s pretty complicated. One of the things I want to talk more openly about is: how Chinese schools destroyed us.
I spent my childhood in the Chinese education system. From first grade to eighth grade, I went through the full experience of public school in China. After taking a year off, I switched to an international high school in Shanghai. But every time I think back to my time in Chinese schools, I feel like… it wasn’t school. It was a trauma factory.
We don’t talk enough about how Chinese schooling shaped us into who we are now. Partly because we don’t really know which parts of the system were harmful and why. Even if we do feel the harm, we often can’t find the language to describe it. On top of that, we internalize so much of what those schools taught us. We end up blaming our anxiety, depression, lack of motivation, or social awkwardness on ourselves—instead of seeing how much of it was shaped by our environment. I’m not saying all this to complain. I’m saying it because I want us to have the freedom to talk about these things—to express our real selves. But expressing your real self is always risky. Especially when you don’t know if the person listening is safe. (Cue VPN ad – skipping this part.)
Back to the topic. What kind of kid was I in Chinese school?
I was emotional. Independent. Strong-willed. I had a short temper and got overwhelmed easily. To be honest, I probably already had issues before I entered school. But Chinese schools didn’t help. If anything, they made it worse. Why? Because the number one priority in Chinese schools is conformity. Obedience. You are taught to become a specific kind of person: a top student, a model child, a quiet rule-follower. You’re allowed a little personality, as long asyou’re obedient and get good grades. Otherwise, your “individuality” is seen as a defect. It’s punished—by teachers and classmates alike.
That kind of environment is brutal. You know those kids lined up like terracotta warriors during the flag-raising ceremonies? You think they all genuinely love the nation, want to be star students, dream of becoming model young pioneers? I don’t buy it. We just learned, very early on, that what we actually wanted was shameful. Undesirable. So we started to perform. School wasn’t about becoming who we are—it was about learning how to act.
I only started to truly understand this when I came across a YouTube channel called Anthony Looks at the World. He uses AI-generated voiceovers to analyze Chinese social structures—especially how the culture shapes us into specific gender roles, personality types, and social expectations. Watching his videos, especially the ones about Chinese schools, stirred something deep in me. The more I watched, the angrier I became. Because I had lived every word he said.
Let’s talk about essays. You remember those essay assignments from school? “My Hometown,” “My Mom,” “A Happy Day”—on the surface, they say “write with real feelings.” But if you actually do, you get marked down or called “unhealthy.” So we all learned to write fake, formulaic essays. I had a go-to template. It went like this: I walked outside and saw trash all over the neighborhood. Suddenly, I felt a strong desire to clean it up. I picked up garbage as the sun set. Sweat dripped from my brow. I looked down at the red scarf on my chest—it glowed even brighter. That line? So cliché. I didn’t write it every time, but I definitely used it a few times. None of it actually happened. But who cares? Teachers didn’t want truth. They wanted obedience. They wanted the story to check all the right boxes: morality, discipline, nationalism. The same thing happened with reading comprehension. In Chinese schools, there’s always a “correct” answer. It’s never about your interpretation—it’s about guessing what the teacher wants you to say. I didn’t know there was another way until I went to international school. There, when we did text analysis in IB English, the teacher didn’t tell us what to think. They said: come up with your own interpretation, and support it with textual evidence. That blew my mind. I had never been taught that my thoughts, my analysis, my way of seeing the world—could be valid.
And some people, hearing all this, might sneer: “Oh, you privileged kid just didn’t play the game well enough. Now you’re bitter.” But here’s the thing: a lot of people who defend this system either (1) fit perfectly into it, (2) gained power from it, or (3) have wrapped their entire identity around the belief that this is the only way to live a life with direction. Letting go of that belief system is terrifying. Because once it collapses, you might have to face the truth: that much of what you believed—about life, success, yourself—was never real. Then who are you? To be clear, I’m not here to deny China’s material realities. I understand why the exam system exists, why meritocracy feels necessary in such a populous country. But material survival doesn’t justify spiritual erasure. We need other voices. We need space to ask: how did this system shape the way I see myself? That’s why I made this video.
And I’m genuinely curious—especially if you’re watching from Taiwan—does any of this resonate with you? Or does it feel totally foreign? I don’t know much about Taiwan’s school system, so I’d love to hear your thoughts. I don’t say this often, but I’m really looking forward to reading the comments on this video. If you’re into this kind of discussion, let me know. Maybe I’ll make more videos like this. Also, go check out Anthony Looks at the World—he even talks about The Courage to Be Disliked, which I might cover next.
Anyway, I’ll see you in the next video. Bye.