Snubbed by a hawker for being a mere teacher, Lin Shaohua wonders if he should find himself a fancier job. How about a “guan”?

That day I finished class at noon, and was just a few steps away from the school building when I saw a “food stall” tricycle parked on the roadside. A plump, middle-aged woman was frying egg pancakes, creating a lot of smoke and steam; oil spurted in all directions; and the “kakachacha” sounds of the slice scratching against the pan mingled the noise from the stove… It was all rather unpleasant.

I asked her to leave, explaining the school’s regulations prohibiting food stalls within the school compound. She smiled brightly, and said in an extremely polite voice: “Oh, Principal Sir, could you just let me sell my food for 30 minutes? Just 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, I’ll go.” To be honest, I had been teaching for nearly 30 years, but this was the first time someone had me addressed as “Principal Sir”. I felt a sweet, tingly sensation warm my heart, and I said, in a tone befitting of a principal: “All right then, just 30 minutes. But just this once.”

The following day, around the same time, I saw that she was once again there, surrounded by four or five girls, hungrily staring at her pancakes. I went up to her and again asked her to leave. She slowly raised her head and looked at me. This time she was no longer smiling.

“A person like you – firstly you are not a principal, secondly you are not an administrator; you are just an ordinary teacher. Why are you interfering in my business? I can’t be bothered with you!”

I never ever thought she would come up with such words. It was as though she had caught me stealing her pancakes, I was reduced to silence. Indeed I am neither a principal nor an administrator; I am merely an ordinary teacher. That was a fact; what else could I say? I left quietly.

In the hawker’s eyes, only the principal and the administrator are the true bosses of the school. You, an ordinary teacher without power, had the cheek to tell me to go, I feel ashamed for you! … Still I didn’t want to scold her; neither did I have the heart to do so. She was just trying to sell a few more pancakes, earning a paltry profit to feed her family.

Traditionally, the Chinese have always respected teachers, especially those teaching in the universities. In their eyes, the teacher’s position in society is not necessarily below that of the principal’s or the administrator’s.

 

The Chinese used to revere teachers.

Who’s to be blamed? The society’s penchant for measuring a person’s social status in terms of the level of his official position (官本位)?

When did that start to change? I began to search in my memory. It’s no exaggeration to say that I’ve travelled extensively as a member of the academic accreditation committee or subjects committee and participated in many relevant meetings. These committees were initially made up of basic teachers and teachers with higher qualifications. Gradually the number of ordinary teachers dwindled, to the point of becoming “rare species”. There were several occasions when I surveyed my surroundings and to my surprise, I found that everyone but me now possessed an official title, giving me the impression that I was attending a political party meeting. At the same time, the titles of high-ranking teachers as declared in the debriefing reports also “advanced” with the times – at the beginning they were "experts", subsequently they became "leaders" (领导)… Who’s to be blamed for this? The society and its penchant for measuring a person’s social status in terms of the level of his official position (官本位)? But what then is the university doing?

I’m starting to wonder if I should, too, go get myself an “official” (官) title…

 

Note:  “Guan” is the Chinese word for official. In ancient China, Confucian scholars pass the most arduous of exams to become government officials, thus earning them a lifetime of success and prosperity, not to mention the highest status in society. Today, the Chinese’s respect for – and obsession with – government officials continues. It symbolises for them power and an iron rice bowl, amongst other things.

 

This post was originally published on 林少华 in November 2010.