Source of Image: Visual China
By Wen Caifei, Reporter of this Newspaper
Eighteen years ago, a young teacher at a certain university jokingly referred to themselves as a "green pepper" in the media, expressing the immense pressure of work and life. Eighteen years later, a new generation of young university teachers, under the backdrop of initiatives like the construction of "Double First-Class" universities, the reform of the "breaking the five constraints" policy, and the "promote or leave" policy, is facing a new peak of pressure.
Under this pressure, who is caught up in the "rat race," and who is embracing the "lying flat" philosophy? If we were to map out the pressures experienced by university teachers from different fields and levels into a "pressure map," we would find that the layers of pressure on this map do not correspond to the common perception; it's not necessarily the case that teachers at better universities experience more pressure. Instead, the perception of pressure correlates with the ambition for advancement within the university.
In fact, the most agonizing are those striving to "move up" in the academic hierarchy, followed by those aiming for stable development, while some university teachers, having lost their competitive drive, are opting to "lie flat" partially.
Being a "Hexagonal Warrior" at a Top University
To outsiders, it seems justifiable for top university teachers to primarily focus on research serving the nation's major strategic needs. However, Chen Lan, a young teacher at a top university in Beijing, feels otherwise.
This is a university positioned to compete at the global level, with a stable position among domestic universities, and its arena of competition has long shifted from domestic to international. The key concern is whether it can ascend further within the ranks of world-class universities.
The university's "pre-employment to tenured" system draws heavily from the teaching and research sequences of foreign universities. Moreover, the tradition here is that teachers shoulder both research and teaching responsibilities, with no neglect of social service. In casual conversations, teachers jokingly refer to themselves as "hexagonal warriors."
The school's requirement for research-teaching positions is 4:4:2, meaning research and teaching each constitute forty percent, while social service (mainly administrative work within the university and academic service) makes up twenty percent. However, in reality, Chen Lan's allocation of energy during the day is 2:5:3, with research taking up twenty percent, teaching fifty percent, and social service thirty percent.
Next year marks the final year of Chen Lan's "pre-employment to tenured" track, yet the allocation of her energy towards research, which is most relevant to the "promote or leave" policy, is the least. This is not because of her exceptional abilities or negligence towards research but due to the tight schedule, high demands, and heavy workload of other tasks.
"Preparing lessons, teaching, answering questions, and guiding students' theses take up half of my time," she told China Science News.
Chen Lan teaches a challenging course in the autumn semester, "which requires a lot of effort in lesson preparation every year." But compared to the spring semester, while teaching, she also has to worry about students' thesis submissions, graduation defenses... Even if the autumn semester is considered "relatively relaxed," she still feels that the spring semester is more prone to causing liver problems.
"At the beginning, I allowed students to choose topics freely, as long as they fell within the broad field. But I found that after diligently guiding students to complete their theses, although they made significant progress, my own research did not advance much," Chen Lan said. Over the past two years, she has adjusted her strategy, "I found that good teachers closely integrate student theses with their own research directions. This way, while guiding students, their own research level will also improve."
Chen Lan also has responsibilities for student management within the college. Thus, while working, students frequently come to her for signatures, or she receives calls to talk to students and handle their psychological crises. Just as she settles down, she receives tasks to evaluate student scholarships, grants, and loans; there are also student party building, disciplinary actions, and other tasks waiting for her, with stacks of files filling her desk. "Especially during the pandemic, I was even more immersed in student management work, day and night."
Previously, she also joined the teaching committee and held positions in the school's functional departments.
"I feel like my time is like a piece of cloth, torn apart by scattered tasks, making it difficult to focus on one thing," Chen Lan said.
Why do teachers in the teaching and research series have to engage in administrative work? Some teachers are puzzled, and some have even openly questioned the school's practices. But "the school has always seen it as a process of nurturing young teachers. It encourages teachers not only to stay in their studies but also to go out into society. So, the school is first and foremost a small society," Chen Lan empathized.
But her own "promotion" is forced to take a back seat.
Before her child was born, her research was mainly scheduled for evenings. After having a child, it became difficult to schedule research time at night, so she had to concentrate it on certain days. "I schedule meetings in the afternoon and leave the mornings for research," but many meeting times are not up to her, so she can only passively accept the arrangements.
Thus, including herself, the time for research among university teachers is getting later and later. Often, at one or two in the morning, she is still rubbing her eyes, looking up materials and writing papers under the desk lamp.
Burning the midnight oil for research, working on weekends, this is the norm for many university teachers.
Chen Lan's father is also a university teacher. He was the same back then, starting research only after the whole family had gone to sleep, and even after retiring for many years, he still maintains this habit.
Staying up late harms the body, and many teachers are worried about this. Some of Chen Lan's colleagues are accustomed to waking up at four or five in the morning to do research. "I feel like they can get by with five or six hours of sleep, but I need at least seven hours to feel rested." Last semester, she tried sleeping only five or six hours a day, but she often felt drowsy. "No wonder coffee sells so well on campus," she joked.
Winter and summer vacations are good times to catch up on sleep. But right after the vacation starts, because "I'm used to the biological clock of work," she still wakes up early in the morning. It's only after a week that she starts waking up later.
Thinking about the "promote or leave" policy still makes Chen Lan nervous. But compared to some universities with high elimination rates, she feels relatively lucky. "At least the school doesn't aim to eliminate people. My efforts will be seen by everyone, and people are also trying to help me, telling me where to focus my efforts."
Leaving, she becomes a not-so-lonely "brave lone ranger"
Last winter, many people from the south chose to become "southern potatoes" in the northeast. But Zhang Min went against the tide, leaving a "Double First-Class" university in the northeast and joining a university in Guangdong.
The university she left is in the upper-middle tier of "Double First-Class" universities, and in recent This time, the teacher community is in turmoil.
"Can I switch to the 'pre-employment-to-tenure' system and be promoted based on 'no promotion, then leave'?" Like many teachers, Zhang Min consulted the personnel department and received the answer, "No, you can't have both the fish and the bear's paw."
A certain new teacher follows the "pre-employment-to-tenure" system, but they are more laid-back and not keen on competition. "Can I stick to the old system and not have to 'leave if not promoted'?" The response from the personnel department was the same: "No, you can't."
Both sides are caught in a dilemma. Those inside the 'fortress' want to get out, while those outside want to get in. However, an "unreasonable" rule stands in their way.
"PhD graduates need to obtain a career position. Quickly go find a job at a university in Xinjiang, where there's no 'promotion or leave' policy, it's still a 'pure land'." Zhang Min reluctantly advises her students.
Otherwise, one has to cling to the "thighs" of academic giants. Professor Li Dongfeng from South China Normal University noticed that many excellent young teachers leave the school after only a few years. "Because basically, there's no chance of 'promotion' without relying on the support of 'big trees' to get a piece of the pie in national projects and key projects competitions."
Since the systems are incompatible, Zhang Min can only grit her teeth and strive for promotion. At this point, she realizes that everything has changed under the pressure of "promotion or leave." Two years ago, the criteria for professorship was one national project every five years, but last year it was adjusted to two national projects within five years. Moreover, there's only one professorship slot available for the entire humanities department.
To build world-class universities, teachers need to be incentivized to produce results through intense competition. Zhang Min can understand this, but the leaders who set these rules themselves became professors by obtaining provincial-level key projects. They set standards that are almost impossible to achieve, citing the rising standards and limited career positions as reasons, which masks the underlying unfairness. It should be noted that some teachers may never obtain a national-level project in their lifetime.
Take the National Social Science Fund as an example. In the 2022-2023 fiscal year, the national final approval rate was only about 13%. Some education scholars have estimated that starting from the initial school review, the elimination rate for applications to the National Social Science Fund is over 95%, with some disciplines having an approval rate of less than 2%.
Sure enough, when the criterion of two national projects within five years was introduced, the vast humanities department was dumbfounded—there wasn't a single person who met the criteria among the hundred or so faculty members.
Other promotion criteria have also become more stringent. Previously, publishing papers in core journals counted for points, and scoring over 10 points would make one eligible for evaluation. Now, only papers published in top-tier journals count for points, while those published in SCI journals, CSSCI journals, core journals, and ordinary journals are all disqualified. The points that were cut were transferred to areas such as consultation and policy advice.
"The 'break the five shackles' wasn't wrong in itself, but the process couldn't be accelerated, which meant the system hadn't stabilized yet and returned to square one, or even worsened." Zhang Min said.
With no way to advance, financial instability, and actual unfairness, Zhang Min feels a heavy weight on her chest, suffocating. "The school wants to use increments to replace existing positions, and we're voluntarily making room for them." In her words, there's bitterness.
After deciding to "move south," Zhang Min found that she wasn't alone. Within a year, over a hundred professors had left the school. But looking at it the other way, as a region with population outflow, it's incredibly challenging for universities in Northeast China to recruit over a hundred excellent teachers in a short period.
Whether it's departing teachers or new recruits, it seems like everyone has returned to square one overnight.
Due to the uniform promotion criteria, facing these nearly unattainable new standards, new teachers entering the school under the "pre-employment-to-tenure" system also see no hope. Many are thinking that they will likely have to look for a new job again after five years.
Upon joining the new institution, Zhang Min managed to enter the "pre-employment-to-tenure" system, but her colleagues were exceptionally outstanding. She couldn't become the "king of academia." "Five years later, the possibility of 'leaving' is much greater than 'promotion'."
However, Zhang Min would rather be "exploited" by other universities than stay trapped, like a tragic hero. "My academic background is still decent. If I get eliminated, at least I'll be in the Greater Bay Area, familiar with the local higher education environment, and I can choose to teach at some local colleges in the future."
If she can't stay in Guangzhou or Shenzhen, Zhang Min wants to go to Hainan next. "I hope the city I'm in is experiencing a rapid development phase in higher education. I must find such a city to have more development opportunities."
In her heart, there's always been a dream of becoming a professor, even if it takes a few more years. "The most important thing is that the university where I am has to support me in doing research that I'm interested in, in an organized manner."
"The forced 'lying flat' of teachers"
Zhou Lin, a teacher at a university in central China, doesn't want to categorize himself as a "lying flat" teacher. In his mind, "lying flat" teachers are those who, once they become professors, no longer engage in academic work or writing books. They only focus on fulfilling their work quotas, exercising, walking birds, and spending holidays with their families.
"They are too exhausted, spending their whole lives struggling for metrics," Zhou Lin said. They follow where the trend goes, strive for projects, and maintain good relationships with leaders and academic journal editors. They face rejections constantly, always in competition. The inner turmoil is like that of a student tearing up their books after finishing the college entrance exam; their frenzy is like a modern version of "Fan Jin passing the imperial examination."
However, upon introspection, "what is my goal in this struggle? It seems like it's still the title." Zhou Lin once wanted to achieve something, but unfortunately, the overall research level of the school is not high. While provincial projects are within reach, projects from the Ministry of Education and national-level projects are just "wishful thinking."
Looking back over a decade ago, he used to actively participate in teaching competitions and won first prize in the city; energetically took students to participate in innovation and entrepreneurship competitions outside the city; and even served as a homeroom teacher, treating students like his own children. He kept himself as busy as a spinning top, but was often laughed at by colleagues as "silly" because "these activities are all conscientious work, rarely contributing to title evaluations."
Approaching forty, he's still an associate professor. Those "smart ones" managed to "break free" by publishing papers and obtaining projects before the standards were raised.
When the academic pursuit tide recedes Some teachers are quite versatile, taking on various part-time gigs such as sports, music, calligraphy, and other forms of training, earning more from these side jobs in a year than from their regular salaries. Some teachers even venture into organizing classes for college entrance exams, civil service exams, or professional qualification trainings, thriving in the after-school business and gaining fame as "internet-famous" educators.
For Zhou Lin, his daily life has become a mechanical routine revolving around home, his child's school, and work. The feeling of being "forced to lie flat" has led him to question the meaning of his job multiple times. He wants to strive but lacks direction, and desires a change of environment but lacks the courage to quit. It's like punching cotton, leaving him frustrated.
"Not knowing what I accomplish each day, it feels like just ticking boxes for work credits. Even during classes, the purpose of teachers is to earn credits. For elective courses like traditional Chinese culture, whoever lacks credits has to teach it. The faces on the podium rotate like a revolving lantern, covering subjects from journalism, economics, arts, to ideological and political education. Even education teachers are offering calligraphy classes. It's like we don't have any sense of professional belonging."
The coveted professional titles seem increasingly out of reach. Zhou Lin's school is a newly established undergraduate institution, where title evaluations are still handled by the provincial authorities and not delegated to the universities. All year round, there are dozens of in-house teachers vying for associate professor titles alone.
"The distant prospect only accelerates teachers' 'lying flat' mentality," says Wang Shuo Wang, associate professor at Wenzhou University. As more teachers adopt this laid-back approach, flat-style universities emerge.
He points out that especially for undergraduate institutions established after 1998, there's a lack of momentum in development, with teachers' research and teaching levels falling behind. Numerous colleges in central and western regions, especially those outside provincial capitals, are also stuck in the quagmire of "forced lying flat", struggling hard.
"Being 'forced to lie flat' poses an even bigger risk— with the declining birth rate, Zhou Lin feels a strong sense of crisis regarding student enrollment. One day, teachers might be laid off due to a lack of students to teach."
In recent years, spurred by the "breaking of the five-only" policy, some local colleges have seen positive changes. For instance, a reform was initiated in a university in Zhou Lin's city last year, where "the year-end assessment now considers a wider range of contributions." Publishing a core journal article adds 10 points, writing a monograph adds 50 points, delivering an academic presentation adds 2 points, conducting a training project adds 2 points, and leading a 1-million-yuan horizontal research project adds 15 points. This system "encourages teachers to fully utilize their talents, with rewards for every effort."
However, he hopes for "even greater change," suggesting to "delegate the title evaluations to the universities first."
[Source: China Science Daily (2024-02-27, 4th Edition, Higher Education Focus)]
