In case you didn’t know, I received my computer science bachelor’s degree from the Harbin Institute of Technology (Shenzhen) three years ago. However, the vast majority of the knowledge I’ve found useful to this day was self-taught. So, what exactly did four years of university teach me? It can be roughly summarized as follows:
Without a doubt, our university education really has problems. Faced with these problems, I chose to bypass the school system and improve myself on my own. As a personal choice, there’s certainly nothing wrong with that. But this is not of much help in solving the problem.
But the author of today’s article has proven through his own personal experience that even in such a terrible environment, we can still build a better educational system. Although it is still in its early stages, it has already shown a path forward and given us hope for changing university education.
Author: 蒟蒻c
Link: https://zhuanlan.zhihu.com/p/673155133
Source: Zhihu
Copyright belongs to the author. For commercial reprints, please contact the author for authorization. For non-commercial reprints, please indicate the source.
This is a question I raised almost two years ago. Now, after founding my own lab for a year and witnessing so many people grow from being clueless to being outstanding, I have an answer. People around me have been urging me to write down my experiences and thoughts, and today I finally have the time and the opportunity. The opportunity is quite interesting: a “big shot”[9] from the neighboring department in an anime chat group was complaining about how the AI graduate students in his school don’t even know how to read documentation. As an aside, the full story of my lab’s founding and development is being written in another article, so please stay tuned for that as well.
In today’s universities, there are many strange phenomena. The AI graduate student needing an undergraduate to teach him how to read documentation is one, and there are many others that have left a deep impression on me.
There’s a professor in my department who is very supportive of undergraduate projects and competitions. This semester, I enrolled in his elective course on comprehensive embedded systems design, which requires us to form teams to complete an embedded-related project. During the topic selection at the beginning of the course, the professor insisted that every team write a project proposal to clarify the division of labor, saying that if we didn’t, the teams would end up squabbling.[10] However, based on my team management experience, a small team of 2-4 people is unlikely to have such issues. A flat structure with one leader and three members, working together and supporting each other, is perfect. There’s only one situation where a team of this size would bicker to the point of failure: when they are not united in purpose.[11] But why would a professor who is so supportive of undergraduate competitions and projects presuppose that undergraduates are not united in purpose? When we chose this course, wasn’t our goal to learn something? In the past, I would have been mystified, but now I’ve seen this situation too many times. As it turns out, most people are just looking to coast for credits.[12]
Some people have very high GPAs and rack up[13] scholarships, but when they look for a job after graduating, they can’t find a good one and have to go to graduate school. Then there are the “problem children” in our lab, who don’t pay attention in class, live by the motto “60 points is all you need,”[14] and spend all day cooped up [15]in the lab. Yet, they are constantly praised by companies who are fighting to hire them. Their starting salaries as undergraduates are higher than what many graduate students earn. This is very strange. In the university system, GPA and scholarships are the most convincing proof of a person’s excellence. Why don’t companies recognize them? After founding the lab, I understood why. I asked a girl from the robotics department with a high GPA to do motor control—the simplest PID speed loop—and she couldn’t figure it out. Then I turned to a “problem student” with poor grades who tinkers with microcontrollers all day. In one month, he went from PWM to FOC, from current loop to angle loop, from handwriting code to Simulink modeling. He completely maxed out the motor control skill tree[16] needed for competitions. In today’s universities, GPA no longer equals excellence. In an era where the internet has become an indispensable tool for humanity, a student with a perfect GPA might have never even used Baidu.
I’ve seen too many similar strange phenomena. I’ve tried to guide them, but they won’t listen. Even telling them about social realities like industry demands can provoke their hostility and attacks. Is this the students’ own fault? I don’t think the primary problem lies with the students. I believe the main issue is with their education. Next, let’s first discuss what education is supposed to do, and then talk about whether our engineering education has achieved it.
We always talk about education, always talk about cultivating people, but what exactly are we supposed to cultivate? We can divide it into three dimensions: knowledge & skills, abilities, and values. Knowledge and skills refer to concrete things like being able to do calculus, drive a car, or write code. This layer is the foundation of education, teaching people what they need to live in the world. The second layer is abilities, such as the ability to communicate and collaborate, to research information, and to define and solve problems. Once someone masters this layer, they can solve many problems that others can’t and do many things that others can’t; they can be called an outstanding person. The third layer is values. I’ve read the works and life stories of many great figures, and they all had their own firm values. It was they who pushed human society forward (or, from a more people’s history perspective, human society advanced under the guidance of their ideas). So, how does our engineering education fare in cultivating these three dimensions? Let’s discuss this in detail.
On the knowledge and skills dimension, current engineering education mainly consists of theory courses and practical courses. I think everyone is quite familiar with the situation with these two. For theory courses, on one hand, the curriculum is outdated and cannot adequately cater to the needs of different students. For example, in my microelectronics major, the curriculum states that it aims to cultivate IC engineers and embedded systems engineers. But for IC engineers, starting Verilog in the second semester of the third year is too late. For embedded systems engineers, not offering a course on automatic control theory is fatal, while offering semiconductor physics has limited utility. On the other hand, the evaluation standards for professors focus on research output. In some top schools like the 985s,[17] the evaluation standard is only research output, which makes it hard to find good teachers. You feel moved for days if you encounter a professor who actually teaches seriously and grades homework. As for practical courses, can we please stop obsessing[18] over those hand-copied lab reports? A proper practical course should have one instructor observing one group, not looking at how pretty their data is or how good their grade is, but grading the student based on whether they showed thought and progress during the practical process. However, the funding and teaching staff for practical courses are so scarce that there are simply no resources to do this. Practical courses have degenerated into a competition of who can produce a better-looking hand-copied lab report. For engineering, mastering a skill requires learning the theory and practicing it constantly. The quality of theory is a matter of luck,[19] and practical experience is non-existent. Students can only learn by rote memorization and cannot truly master knowledge and skills. This is the main reason for the disconnect between high GPAs and good job prospects for undergraduates. Undergraduates cannot master the knowledge and skills that companies value, so companies have no choice but to hire graduate students.
On the abilities dimension. After one year, the undergraduates on our lab team have reached a somewhat terrifying level of ability. Recently, there was an opportunity for an industry-sponsored project.[20] I introduced the company to the team members, and they handled everything themselves—from finalizing details and quoting prices to signing the contract, starting the work, finishing, and collecting the final payment. This would be unimaginable outside the lab. For engineering, the most effective way to cultivate abilities is through competitions. The abilities to communicate and collaborate, to research information, and to define and solve problems can all be learned in competitions. What kind of competitions? Competitions with real substance. Here I propose a method for classifying competitions: any competition judged subjectively by a panel is a “water competition.”[1] Only competitions with clear, objective scoring criteria have the potential for substance. However, when it comes to competitions, schools—especially 985 universities—prioritize research over education. Very little money is invested in undergraduates to begin with, and a lot of that is spent on what I would classify as “water competitions,” like the “Innovation and Entrepreneurship Training Program for College Students”[21] and the “Challenge Cup.”[22] For our lab to participate in ROBOCON, we have to rely on teachers and students paying out of their own pockets, taking on industry projects for money, corporate sponsorships, and funds from the Innovation Program. Even though we won our university’s first national first prize in the Electronics Design Contest[23] in over a decade, we weren’t even fully reimbursed for our expenses. Even if there were enough money, our universities lack faculty advisors and a competition system. The faculty advisor shapes the team’s values; an advisor who can only see the honors and benefits of a competition cannot truly cultivate people with outstanding abilities. A competition system is a method to maximize a competition’s developmental and honorary benefits. A new student enters the lab, learns knowledge and skills -> competes -> produces results -> turns results into patents and papers -> which then become learning materials for future students, closing the loop. Without a complete competition system, achieving results is several times harder than for others, and it’s difficult for those achievements to benefit future generations. From my observations and conversations, I can say that most schools do not provide these things to their undergraduates.
As for shaping values, I can’t even be bothered to talk about it. My assessment of some university students, especially many with high GPAs, is this: they want to be exquisitely selfish,[24] but lack the ability to even maximize that selfishness. This should tell you my opinion of their abilities and values. In the year since the lab was founded, I’ve seen too many people try to reap benefits from the lab without putting in any work. I’ve even seen Group A helping Group B debug in the morning, and then when Group A’s project had a problem in the afternoon, Group B was cheering. And the interesting thing is, these people generally have very high GPAs. Some people, I told them that a ROBOCON award has less substance for them than an Electronics Design Contest award, and they thought I was trying to trick[25] them... I’m thinking, I’m the one who deals with the companies; how can a team award like RC be more convincing than an evaluation from your team leader or captain? The current GPA model has turned university into a zero-sum game. On one hand, it makes many people forget that life is about finding your own unique path and that society cares about what problems you can solve. On the other hand, it has lowered the moral bottom line for some people.
It can be said that our engineering education has failed on all fronts in cultivating these three dimensions. The people it produces cannot adapt to the needs of society and can only wait until graduate school to correct these deficiencies.
Some say that we have too many university students, so we have no choice but to use this kind of Prussian education and cannot tailor instruction to individual aptitude. But I don’t think that’s an excuse for giving up.[26] Even in this situation, solutions still exist. Like in our lab, let the outstanding people lead everyone else to become outstanding. This is what I also told the department that supports our lab: “If you feel you don’t have the energy to take care of every single student, don’t worry. You have already cultivated so many excellent students, and they are each leading a group of people to make progress. When they encounter problems, they will naturally collect and summarize them.” As long as you give students support, someone will naturally take the lead. Many things don’t require the department or the university to do them personally. However, many schools and departments now are stuck, having not even taken the first step. They can only have professors act as nannies for the students, helping them with some innovation projects and papers. They are afraid of investing the initial sunk costs to cultivate truly outstanding people, even if that small initial sunk cost would be followed by a continuous output of excellent students. It’s truly lamentable. Therefore, I’ve been constantly thinking: when the university gives up on cultivating undergraduates, who can cultivate us besides ourselves? Hope always exists. In the RC (ROBOCON) circle, I’ve met countless lab leaders who have no funding and no advisors. We all achieved victory against slim odds. Perhaps this is the drive of young people that can change the world.
As I write this today, I no longer want to attack the darkness of the world, nor am I trying to brag about how amazing our lab is, and I’m certainly not trying to step on those “GPA freaks”[27] I dislike. I just want to tell those who are lost—including the me who was lost in the small world of the university two years ago—don’t let the small world in front of you tie you down. Open your eyes to see the world, experience it with your heart, and look for opportunities. You can become outstanding. My strength is not yet enough to shake the entire system, but I have done my best to build a small safe harbor for the future generations at my school. Now, my historic mission is complete, and the time to retire after success is near. I leave this article in the hope of inspiring more people to become my successors. “May the youth of China all get rid of the cold air, and just walk upwards, to act if they can act, to speak out if they can speak out. If there is a bit of heat, emit a bit of light. Like a firefly, one can also emit a little light in the darkness, without having to wait for the torch.”[28]
“Water competition” (水赛, shuǐ sài): The adjective “水” (shuǐ, water) is slang for something diluted, padded, or of low quality. A “water competition” is seen as lacking rigor and being primarily for padding a resume.
Macau teammate: This is a reference to a known “hack” or loophole in many national competitions in mainland China. These competitions often have special quotas or easier entry requirements for teams that include members from Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan, as a way to encourage their participation. Finding a teammate from Macau was therefore a strategic shortcut to qualify for the national finals.
Skipped classes (翘课, qiào kè): A common slang term for cutting or skipping class.
Crammed (突击, tūjī): Literally “to make a surprise attack.” This is common slang for cramming intensely for an exam in a short period.
Padding (一句话写成三句话, yī jù huà xiě chéng sān jù huà): The Chinese literally means “writing one sentence as three sentences.” It’s a very descriptive way of saying “padding” or “adding fluff” to meet length requirements without adding substance.
Graduation thesis (毕设, bì shè): Abbreviation for 毕业设计 (bìyè shèjì), the final graduation project or thesis required for a bachelor’s degree in China.
Mastering formatting: The original phrase “学术功夫才到家” (xuéshù gōngfu cái dàojiā), meaning “only then are your scholarly skills up to par,” is used with heavy sarcasm. The editor is mocking the university’s focus on superficial details like bibliography formatting over the actual quality of the research.
Getting ‘invited for tea’ (喝茶, hē chá): This is a well-known and sensitive piece of Chinese political slang. Literally meaning “to drink tea,” it is a widely understood euphemism for being summoned by authorities (such as the police or state security) for an interrogation, warning, or intimidation due to perceived dissident or troublesome behavior. Here, the editor uses it to describe being officially reprimanded by the university administration for his student activism, carrying the same intimidating connotation.
Big shot (大佬, dàlǎo): Literally “big boss.” A common slang term for a highly skilled, respected, or senior person in a particular field or community—an expert or guru.
Squabbling (扯皮, chěpí): Literally “to pull skin.” A colloquial term for arguing endlessly, passing the buck, or getting bogged down in disputes and shirking responsibility.
Not united in purpose (人心不齐, rénxīn bù qí): Literally “people’s hearts are not aligned.” An idiom meaning that members of a group are not on the same page or do not share the same goals.
To coast for credits (混个学分, hùn ge xuéfēn): The verb “混” (hùn) means to muddle along or drift. The phrase implies doing the bare minimum just to pass and get the credit.
Rack up (狂砍, kuáng kǎn): Literally “to slash wildly.” Vivid slang for acquiring a large quantity of something with ease and dominance, like “racking up” or “hoarding” awards.
“60 points is all you need” (60 分万岁, liùshí fēn wànsuì): Literally “Long live 60 points!” A common motto among students who prioritize practical skills over coursework and aim only for the minimum passing grade (typically 60/100).
Cooped up (泡, pào): Literally “to soak.” Slang for spending a lot of time immersed in a place, like “hanging out” or being “cooped up” in the lab.
Maxed out the skill tree (技能树给他点完了, jìnéng shù gěi tā diǎn wán le): Direct borrowing from video game terminology (especially RPGs), where a “skill tree” represents a character’s abilities. To “max it out” means to have learned every available skill.
985 Universities: A group of elite universities in China designated by the government for special funding under “Project 985.”
Obsessing (惦记, diànjì): Literally “to think of.” Used here sarcastically to mean “to be obsessed with” or “to cling to.”
A matter of luck (随缘, suíyuán): Literally “to follow fate.” A Buddhist term that is now popular slang for “whatever happens, happens” or “it’s up to chance.”
Industry-sponsored project (横向项目, héngxiàng xiàngmù): In Chinese academia, “horizontal projects” are those commissioned and funded by external entities like private companies, as opposed to “vertical projects” funded top-down by the government.
Innovation Program (大创, dà chuàng): Short for the “National Innovation and Entrepreneurship Training Program for College Students.”
“Challenge Cup” (挑战杯, tiǎozhàn bēi): A well-known national university student academic competition. The author dismisses both this and the Innovation Program as “water competitions.”
First prize in the Electronics Design Contest (电赛国一, diànsài guó yī): Short for the National First Prize in the highly prestigious National Undergraduate Electronics Design Contest.
Exquisitely selfish (精致利己, jīngzhì lìjǐ): A popular term for intelligent, sophisticated individuals who skillfully use their abilities to pursue their own self-interest, often ruthlessly, while maintaining a polished exterior. The author’s insult is that these students aren’t even competent enough to be effectively selfish.
To trick (忽悠, hūyou): A colloquial term meaning to dupe, deceive, or swindle someone, often through fast talk.
Giving up (摆烂, bǎi làn): Literally “to let it rot.” Popular slang for giving up, embracing mediocrity, and ceasing to care when a situation seems hopeless.
“GPA freaks” (绩点卷怪, jìdiǎn juǎn guài): A derogatory term for students who are obsessed with maximizing their GPA and are hyper-competitive in the academic “involution” (卷, juǎn).
The final quote: A famous and powerful quote from the seminal modern Chinese writer Lu Xun (鲁迅). It is a call to action for young people to contribute positively to society, however small their contribution may be, rather than remaining passive or cynical.