Are Children from Elite Families Destined to Win? - Huxiu#
#Omnivore
Highlights#
The subjects of Jiang Yilin's research, children from high-income elite families, seem unaware of this issue; the vast majority of students come from similar backgrounds. When asked whether their families provided any help, the students' answers were identical: “My parents basically didn’t help at all.” “Getting into college is my own business; it’s hard for others to help.”
The parents cooperatively feel guilty for “not having done anything.” For example, Claire's mother. Claire is a star student at her school and was later admitted to Yale University. Her father moved from a small village in Inner Mongolia to Beijing, and she lived up to her family's expectations, moving from Beijing to the world.
Claire's mother is a doctor with a PhD, managing a team of assistants. Dr. Chen describes herself as an outsider, “I didn’t do anything for her,” “everything was done by her.”
Halfway through the conversation, Dr. Chen received a call from her daughter, as Claire needed to create a large poster for a school project. Dr. Chen arranged for her PhD students to quickly print out a life-sized poster. However, when Jiang Yilin asked about it later, no one remembered, and no one thought it was worth mentioning.
Mr. Guo, Robert's father, quietly paved the way for his son to study abroad early on. He is an executive at a company, speaking softly. Just one income that Jiang Yilin learned about exceeds one million annually. Unlike Claire, Robert is a child with “obvious poor academic qualities.” When weighing between studying and playing video games, he seriously considered, “The benefit of studying is better grades, but playing video games makes me feel better,” and concluded, “feeling good is more important.”
Mr. Guo realized early on that this child was not like him. Mr. Guo was a top student in the 1980s, ranking among the top fifty out of over four hundred thousand candidates in the college entrance examination in Sichuan. However, his son did not inherit his advantages, and based on Robert's grades, he is very likely to attend a less prestigious university.
Mr. Guo gave up on the college entrance examination early, but he did not directly arrange for his son to study abroad. As a practitioner in the finance-related industry, he also incorporated “buyer psychology expectations” into his plans. Considering teenagers' rebellious psychology, children are likely to deliberately oppose their parents. Therefore, Mr. Guo only enrolled him in a summer exchange trip to visit American universities, traveling from the East Coast to the West Coast, trying to spark his son's interest. Sure enough, after the 15-day trip, his son became “determined to go to America.”
To make Robert believe that studying abroad was his independent choice, Mr. Guo initially pretended to disagree strategically, feigning that he was persuaded by his son, even though everything was developing in the direction he had anticipated. Robert collaborated with the study abroad agency hired by his father and ultimately applied to the University of Washington, which pleased his father.
Robert was completely unaware of his father's guidance. He summarized his father's influence on his college application: “I discussed college and major directions with my dad.” That’s all, “they really couldn’t help much.” ⤴️ ^fbc3137f
It really seems like my mom's educational method, making others feel that the decisions were their own and that they did it themselves, maintaining their own initiative and self-drive.
The difference between ordinary players and top players is that if they make a wrong move, ordinary people face elimination, while top players have “try again” written on their cards. ⤴️ ^1d1bbad4
Gaining recognition from authoritative figures and satisfying the needs of powerful adults is a part of elite education. ⤴️ ^d8620c97
This is so important, just like my mom required my homeroom teacher to find a reason to praise me every day when I was in middle school.
For these children at the top of the pyramid, the world is a backyard they can manipulate and roam freely. ⤴️ ^26396560
“They believe that I deserve to be treated this well, and I deserve to receive so many resources.” ⤴️ ^f02d066f
They are so happy!
Are Children from Elite Families Destined to Win?#
This article reveals the current state of education among elite families in China through the research and interviews conducted by the author, Chen Xiaoyan. Children from elite families, leveraging their family background and resource advantages, are almost destined to become winners in the future. The article also discusses the characteristics and impacts of elite education, as well as parental involvement and support in their children's education.
• 💡 Education is a competition for social status, and children from elite families are almost destined to be winners.
• 💡 Children from elite families enjoy more resources and opportunities in education, achieving higher educational accomplishments and career prospects.
• 💡 Children from elite families receive significant parental investment and support in education, while also facing higher expectations and pressures.
Young teacher Jiang Yilin spent seven years interviewing and tracking 28 students from the top ten high schools in Beijing, all of whom came from elite families. These children share similar growth trajectories: entering world-class universities from top high schools, working in large multinational companies or starting their own businesses after graduation, becoming the future global talents.
Based on her research, Jiang Yilin published the book “Study Gods: First-Hand Observations of Chinese Elite Education,” where she found that education is a card game for competing for future social positions, and children from elite families are almost destined to win this game.
Genius Base
There was a commotion in the geography class. The teacher was discussing an exam question about “how the Xiamen-Shenzhen Railway was constructed,” explaining to the students that the reason the railway tracks moved inland was due to military security considerations.
“That explanation is too far-fetched,” a boy sitting in the front row with black-rimmed glasses loudly interrupted the teacher: “It only moved in by one kilometer.”
“It should move further, like another railway,” another girl chimed in.
The teacher wanted to say something else, but before she could speak, a student named Dapeng at the back of the classroom raised his head and interrupted her: “Let me explain; I can clarify it better.” The teacher was taken aback, a bit at a loss, and then put down the chalk in her hand.
The classmates quietly stared at Dapeng. He stood up and walked to the blackboard, unceremoniously erasing what the geography teacher had written, just like a teacher negating a student's wrong answer. Dapeng then drew a map of the coastline and lectured his classmates: “This railway was designed a long time ago, but before construction began, other intersecting railways had already been built... Actually, it was social and economic reasons that led to changes in railway construction.”
The geography teacher maintained a stern face, expressionless but looking a bit nervous. She nodded helplessly and said thank you in English.
Image | Inside a classroom of a secondary school
Sitting behind Dapeng was scholar Jiang Yilin, who recorded this moment of the student challenging the teacher in her notebook. This scene took place in 2013 at a well-known high school ranked among the top ten in Beijing, located in the western suburbs of the city. Jiang Yilin is an assistant professor of sociology at NYU Shanghai. From 2012 to 2019, Jiang Yilin conducted a seven-year longitudinal study of 28 students, who, like Dapeng, came from five of Beijing's top ten high schools and came from wealthy families.
In her book “Study Gods: How the New Chinese Elite Prepare for Global Competition,” Jiang Yilin documented their similar growth trajectories: from top high schools to world-class universities, graduating to work in large multinational companies or starting their own businesses, becoming the future world elites.
How to describe these students? Genius and smart are the most frequently heard words by Jiang Yilin.
A high school teacher explained Dapeng's behavior to Jiang Yilin with a smile: “Our students are very smart; they will prove you wrong in class.” There is even a specific term for this, called “hanging the teacher on the blackboard.” This practice of encouraging students to challenge teachers is rare in a test-oriented education system in primary and secondary schools.
“We are much better than others.”
“You can change the world in the future.”
“You all have the potential to become prime ministers.”
In school, teachers often tell students this, which seems not so much praise as a statement of fact. During her research, a vice principal pointed to passing students and told Jiang Yilin: “Schools in the U.S. and Australia consider our students geniuses.”
A teacher once told the whole class: “Our class's average score should be full marks.” When Jiang Yilin heard this, she was the only one surprised, wide-eyed; she glanced at the other students and found that everyone had no expression, as if they were defaulting to the teacher's statement.
A few students once discussed the underperforming students in the school who failed the college entrance examination, and a girl sighed: “It's sad, but also expected.” Those “underperformers” couldn’t get into Peking University or Tsinghua University, nor could they attend prestigious foreign universities, and ultimately “could only be admitted to provincial key universities.”
In this field study, Jiang Yilin interacted with 28 students, all from high-income families. The median family income is more than twice that of the top 10% of urban residents and four times that of Beijing civil servants. Of course, this is just the visible income. Some wealthy families' “grey income” may be higher than their taxable income. They have Beijing residency and own more than two properties. Many parents are highly educated, and many are alumni of Tsinghua and Peking University. At least one of the couple is an executive or senior technical personnel.
In the five high schools Jiang Yilin studied, one is located in Haidian District, Beijing, where luxury black cars are parked outside the school gate during dismissal time, and the vast majority of students come from wealthy or powerful families. Initially, Jiang Yilin wanted to study the differences among students from different family backgrounds in these high schools, but later she found it almost impossible to find students from working-class or farming families.
This reminded Jiang Yilin of her experience as an exchange student at the University of Pennsylvania during her undergraduate studies. Most of her classmates were wealthy Americans. Sometimes she would hear others mention that a certain classmate's family was a billionaire, a level of wealth she had no concept of. She had lived in her American roommate's luxurious home, where everyone in the roommate's family owned a sports car.
Jiang Yilin comes from a middle-class family in Taiwan, where both parents work at a local research institute. Her family is not poor but also not affluent. After graduating from university, she was admitted to a research institute at the University of Chicago, which required self-funding for her master's program. Due to study abroad expenses, she almost missed out on this school. In the end, she exhausted the savings of her parents and grandparents and used her brother's scholarship to barely cover the study abroad costs.
As a sociology PhD, Jiang Yilin has read many classic Western educational sociology books. Her personal experiences and knowledge system tell her, “Many prestigious schools in the world are like this; even looking at scores, they are absolutely dominated by elites.” Western literature describes foreign elite students. But the same story also occurs in the East, where the education system seems fairer.
She wants to use her research to explore the answers in East Asian society: Why do most of the smartest “genius students” come from wealthy families? Why do these schools, which occupy first-class resources, deviate from the traditional mission of using education to bridge class gaps and become breeding grounds for elites to replicate the next generation of elites?
Parents Who Did Nothing
Even before conducting social science research, Jiang Yilin had a vague sense of class differences.
In high school, Jiang Yilin attended a public school in Taiwan, where there were both children from wealthy families and those from ordinary working-class families. Coming from a dual-income family with high education, Jiang Yilin was in the middle tier at school, caught between “Taiwan's wealthy” and lower-income families. During parent-teacher meetings, Jiang Yilin was responsible for registration, and the column for parents from working-class families was often blank. “My parents could come to the parent-teacher meeting anytime; their parents couldn't even take time off.”
Growing up in a knowledge-based family, studying was always the top priority. Regardless of whether one would earn money in the future, studying was fundamental. “Even if I didn’t do well in school as a child, I never knew I could stop studying.”
She inherited her parents' cultural capital. The university application form was filled out with her mother sitting on the sofa watching Jiang Yilin. She would tell her daughter the differences between this major and that major, which ones she had taken classes in, and which were the most interesting to study. When Jiang Yilin encountered academic problems in university, she would directly discuss them with her mother.
Her parents' social circle consisted of researchers, and Jiang Yilin was influenced by the academic world from a young age, knowing what topics were valued in academia and what research could earn high scores. These were things that children from ordinary families found it hard to access. Jiang Yilin began to realize that everyone starts from different starting lines.
==The subjects of Jiang Yilin's research, these high-income elite families' children, seem unaware of this issue; the vast majority of students come from similar backgrounds. When asked whether their families provided any help, the students' answers were identical:== ==“My parents basically didn’t help at all.” “Getting into college is my own business; it’s hard for others to help.”==
==Parents cooperatively feel guilty for “not having done anything.” For example, Claire's mother. Claire is a star student at her school and was later admitted to Yale University. Her father moved from a small village in Inner Mongolia to Beijing, and she lived up to her family's expectations, moving from Beijing to the world.==
==Claire's mother is a doctor with a PhD, managing a team of assistants. Dr. Chen describes herself as an outsider, “I didn’t do anything for her,” “everything was done by her.”==
==Halfway through the conversation, Dr. Chen received a call from her daughter, as Claire needed to create a large poster for a school project. Dr. Chen arranged for her PhD students to quickly print out a life-sized poster. However, when Jiang Yilin asked about it later, no one remembered, and no one thought it was worth mentioning.==
==Mr. Guo, Robert's father, quietly paved the way for his son to study abroad early on. He is an executive at a company, speaking softly. Just one income that Jiang Yilin learned about exceeds one million annually. Unlike Claire, Robert is a child with “obvious poor academic qualities.” When weighing between studying and playing video games, he seriously considered, “The benefit of studying is better grades, but playing video games makes me feel better,” and concluded, “feeling good is more important.”==
==Mr. Guo realized early on that this child was not like him. Mr. Guo was a top student in the 1980s, ranking among the top fifty out of over four hundred thousand candidates in the college entrance examination in Sichuan. However, his son did not inherit his advantages, and based on Robert's grades, he is very likely to attend a less prestigious university.==
==Mr. Guo gave up on the college entrance examination early, but he did not directly arrange for his son to study abroad. As a practitioner in the finance-related industry, he also incorporated “buyer psychology expectations” into his plans. Considering teenagers' rebellious psychology, children are likely to deliberately oppose their parents. Therefore, Mr. Guo only enrolled him in a summer exchange trip to visit American universities, traveling from the East Coast to the West Coast, trying to spark his son's interest. Sure enough, after the 15-day trip, his son became “determined to go to America.”==
==To make Robert believe that studying abroad was his independent choice, Mr. Guo initially pretended to disagree strategically, feigning that he was persuaded by his son, even though everything was developing in the direction he had anticipated. Robert collaborated with the study abroad agency hired by his father and ultimately applied to the University of Washington, which pleased his father.==
==Robert was completely unaware of his father's guidance. He summarized his father's influence on his college application: “I discussed college and major directions with my dad.” That’s all, “they really couldn’t help much.”==
Children announce to outsiders the withdrawal of their families, as if the wealth, status, and power of their families never played a key role in their education.
Jiang Yilin calculated a detailed account in her book; if elite families prepare to send their children abroad, their annual detailed expenses include: international department tuition of about 90,000 to 100,000, tutoring classes of 20,000 to 30,000, and private tutoring at 700 to 800 per session. Students also need to participate in up to five exams in Hong Kong or Singapore, and parents bear the costs of flights, hotel rooms, and registration fees.
Some parents help their children secure special identities, which can add 5 points to the college entrance examination. Applying to foreign universities requires increasing the child's influence, and parents may ask the principal to write recommendation letters, even if the principal does not know the child. Or publish the child's articles into books and have the principal write a preface.
Building good relationships with teachers is also very important. Some teachers in elite high schools are former exam question setters. The quota for “three good students” is also in the hands of teachers, which can add 20 to 30 points to the college entrance examination. If they want to study abroad, they can also ask teachers to write recommendation letters. Luxury skincare products and Apple watches are common gifts for teachers. The precious tea leaves in teachers' offices are often too many to finish. Students from elite families do not worry about not being able to present decent gifts.
This is also something Jiang Yilin wants to showcase in her book: The cultivation methods of elites make these children believe that they have earned everything through hard work and talent. And the class differentiation that arises in the future appears so natural and reasonable.
A Hand-off Without Errors
During her research, Jiang Yilin discovered an interesting phenomenon. In the eyes of many elite families in Beijing, only Tsinghua University and Peking University can be considered “first-class,” “they even look down on Fudan University.”
In the international department of the high school in western Beijing, Jiang Yilin saw a giant world map marking the students' goals—MIT, Stanford, Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Cambridge, Oxford, and 16 other universities.
The parents of these families share a common trait: they encourage their children to pursue the highest goals without distraction, and those ranked lower are not acceptable, as they would lead to downward mobility in status. They do not worry about anything outside their goals.
“This is an elite attitude,” Jiang Yilin said. She recalled that while pursuing her PhD abroad, a teacher from East Asia once asked her what her plans were after graduation. Like most people, Jiang Yilin prepared plans A, B, C, and D, which were the best, second-best, ordinary, and worst options.
The teacher interrupted her: “You can’t do that; first eliminate B, C, and D. If A fails, we will think of a way.” Jiang Yilin later realized that the PhD teacher was employing an elite training method.
“What focus, how could that be? I’m super afraid of failure,” Jiang Yilin laughed. For her, since she almost couldn’t afford to study for her master's due to tuition, she discovered for the first time that her life had no “safety net.” A slight misstep could lead her off track at any moment.
In the elite students Jiang Yilin interacted with, however, this ordinary person's conservatism was not visible. ==The difference between ordinary players and top players is that if they make a wrong move, ordinary people face elimination, while top players have “try again” written on their cards.==
In her senior year, top student Liu Yulang encountered a big problem. In 2014, two months before the Math Olympiad competition, the policy suddenly changed, announcing that winners of the Math Olympiad would no longer qualify for guaranteed admission to college. When she learned this news, Yulang had already prepared for two years, sacrificing her college entrance exam review time. Under this blow, she failed in the competition.
Yulang's sacrifices were far more than that. In her sophomore year, her mother learned that the best gold medal Math Olympiad coach in the city was at this high school in western Beijing, so she had her daughter transfer there to secure a chance for guaranteed admission to Tsinghua or Peking University. Her mother's intel was reliable; she was an alumna of a prestigious university and an editor at a newspaper.
Yulang had to leave her familiar circle of friends and come to this unfamiliar high school. At first, she was not used to boarding school and cried every day on the phone home. Until the second month, she complained as usual, but on the other end of the line, her mother scolded her: “Are you done?” From that moment, she knew she couldn’t cry anymore and had to find a way herself. For nearly a year, she didn’t make any friends.
The news of her failure in the Math Olympiad was like a sharp alarm, prompting her mother to spring into action and enter a state of vigilance. For two consecutive weeks, Yulang's Math Olympiad coach, Teacher Sun, received daily calls from this mother, asking him to help her daughter.
Teacher Sun had no good feelings for this mother-daughter pair. In his view, studying Math Olympiad was merely for the sake of guaranteed admission, and this behavior was too utilitarian. But after two weeks, Yulang's mother's calls made him “completely unable to bear it; he was really about to collapse.” He had to reveal an important piece of information: Peking University was holding a winter camp for Math Olympiad dropouts, and if they passed the final exam, they might receive extra points.
On Teacher Sun's recommendation, Yulang attended that winter camp but did not pass the final exam. In a panic, Yulang's mother contacted Teacher Sun again. Teacher Sun informed her of another insider tip: two weeks later, another prestigious school was also holding a similar winter camp. This time, Yulang registered and passed the final exam, earning her an additional 60 points for her college entrance examination.
Later, Yulang's college entrance exam scores fell below the university's cutoff, but after the extra points, she was still admitted smoothly, just like her mother had in her youth. This special game rule was something other students Jiang Yilin interviewed had never heard of, and even other Math Olympiad coaches seemed unaware. Yulang's mother played an unexpected card for her child.
A similar experience occurred with another student, Wen Bin. Wen Bin initially wanted to apply directly for a PhD abroad after his undergraduate studies but was unsuccessful. His father decided to intervene and help his son plan a new round of applications. In addition to the PhD Wen Bin wanted, he also applied for master's programs at three other schools as a backup. Later, Wen Bin's PhD application failed again, but this time, he fell into the safety net his father had woven in advance—his master's program was successful. The two-year master's program cost the family around 700,000 to 800,000.
In this story, the most surprising thing is that Wen Bin's father had never studied abroad and did not understand how to apply to foreign schools. Yet he was able to quickly assess the situation and guide Wen Bin step by step when his son faced setbacks.
Jiang Yilin explained that parents like Wen Bin and Yulang's mother are members of the newspaper with established positions. As trained senior media professionals, they possess strong information acquisition and reading abilities, adept at sifting through the most important parts of vast and complex information.
Wen Bin's father also consulted many colleagues, whose children had successful experiences studying abroad. These connections became an impromptu think tank. Thus, in a short time, Wen Bin's father figured out the preferences of foreign admissions committees when recruiting students.
For ordinary children to climb to the same position, “it really requires the right time, place, and people; one misstep is not allowed.” Jiang Yilin interviewed a student from an ordinary family in Jiangxi, who graduated from Fudan University and went on to pursue a PhD at the University of Chicago. Before his college entrance examination, his parents prepared a coal truck for hauling coal, either to get into a prestigious university or return home to haul coal.
The Birth of the Next Generation
Years passed, and the students Jiang Yilin interacted with all lived the lives they had anticipated.
A girl graduated from the University of Oxford and stayed in the UK; several years ago, her income reached the top 5% in the UK. Ashley graduated from the University of Cambridge and works for one of the largest manufacturers in Switzerland, with a starting salary of $100,000. After just a year, she switched to a Japanese company, earning significantly more than before.
Another girl complained to Jiang Yilin that her job only offered a starting salary of $140,000, “My boss is simply exploiting me!”
“What student graduates with $140,000, not including bonuses?” Jiang Yilin joked that if it were her freshly graduated self, “I would go for a fraction of that.”
She met another student, Xiang Zu, at a restaurant in Haidian, Beijing. Xiang Zu is a PhD student in engineering and works as a part-time consultant for an American automotive company and an energy company. Although he graduated not long ago, his tone is mature and firm. The restaurant is near Xiang Zu's company, bustling with people, and he loudly criticized his boss as “very evil” for producing environmentally harmful products in developing countries, exacerbating global social inequality.
He dislikes the company's products and even bought a competitor's brand car to drive to work every day. Xiang Zu reported the situation to the company's higher-ups. He believes he can do better than his boss and is planning to start his own business to take down the company and capture the international market.
Like the student who “hung the teacher on the blackboard” at the beginning of the article, Xiang Zu is also accustomed to publicly questioning authority, “hanging superiors on the blackboard.” In these students, the shadows of past elite education are clearly still present.
The girl who used to lean on Jiang Yilin to talk about dreams, Tracy, later became a trader at a well-known investment bank in Hong Kong. Jiang Yilin met her in a bustling commercial area in central Beijing while she was on vacation in mainland China. Tracy wore sunglasses and carried designer bags and shoes she had bought abroad. While the two were shopping, Tracy walked into a tea shop to pick gifts for her bosses, just like she used to give gifts to her teachers in middle school.
She told Jiang Yilin: “My bosses all like me. Why wouldn’t they like me? I’m such a good employee!” A few years ago, she had described her relationship with her teachers in exactly the same way, “Teachers all like me. What reason do they have not to like me? I’m such a good student.”
At that high school in western Beijing, there are one or two “principal times” each week, where the principal invites students who have opinions about the school to chat and hear their suggestions. From the cleanliness of the toilets to the learning atmosphere in the school, to whether the school can invite a circus for the anniversary celebration or rent a roller coaster for the school, the principal almost always adopts such requests. ==Gaining recognition from authoritative figures and satisfying the needs of powerful adults is a part of elite education.==
In this environment, students naturally have a stronger sense of confidence and entitlement. For instance, enjoying the service of teachers being available at their beck and call. In her senior year, Tracy wanted to apply to Johns Hopkins University and needed to submit written materials. Just hours before the application deadline, Tracy suddenly felt anxious and decided to revise her application one more time. After 10 PM, she called her counselor, who was about to go to bed, asking him to help her make another round of revisions within an hour. It’s worth noting that that was the busiest application season for counselors. Many ordinary students who wanted to consult with their counselors had to make appointments weeks in advance.
==For these children at the top of the pyramid, the world is a backyard they can manipulate and roam freely.== In an interview, Jiang Yilin mentioned the elite students' belief in “I deserve”: “They believe that I deserve to be treated this well, and I deserve to receive so many resources.”
Tony works at a financial company in New York after graduation. On his birthday, he held a party on the rooftop of a building in Queens. Over twenty friends and colleagues came to celebrate. One friend took a train from Boston that afternoon and had to rush back for a meeting the next morning. His colleagues had just finished two weeks of intensive training and were all very tired. But he never thought anyone would refuse his invitation.
Looking solely at employment, among the 28 students Jiang Yilin investigated, only one seemed to deviate from the mainstream elite path. Graduating from the University of Cambridge, Si Ying works in wildlife conservation. Her income is far below that of her classmates working in finance.
Jiang Yilin quickly corrected this view. Si Ying is married, and in the status hierarchy, one must consider not only her individual situation but also her family. Si Ying's husband is a graduate student from Yale University and recently started a tech company. If the company grows sufficiently, public welfare projects like wildlife conservation can serve as elite-style image public relations.
Jiang Yilin's research concluded in 2019. Four years have passed, and those children who once held her hand and walked around the school, calling her “sister,” have now become nearly thirty-year-old world elites. Jiang Yilin clearly feels that campus life was a brief intersection in the trajectories of her life and those of these students. If she were to integrate into the lives of these people now, it would become very difficult.
One child mentioned during a dinner that he found a great job in Chicago. Just hearing the name of the company, Jiang Yilin had to listen six times to understand it. Finally, she returned home, found the interview recording, searched online based on the pronunciation, and only managed to get the interviewee to spell out the entire company name.
“I am a second-generation scholar; they might be second-generation business people,” Jiang Yilin said: “There are many things I don’t understand about them; our understanding of each other's current lives is too lacking.”
The relationship between Jiang Yilin and these students seems to be a testament to a certain social class divide. Two intersecting lines are racing toward different tracks; these children are heading toward a future she can hardly imagine.
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