To get a sense of the education crisis facing the
future government of this prosperous but congested colony, stand
at lunchtime in the hallway of a six-story purple school building
on the western edge of Hong Kong island. Stand and watch 1,800
children in matching white uniforms moving in every direction in
a kind of controlled, cacophonous mayhem.
This primary school, like 680 others around the territory, is
officially designated as "bi-sessional." In practice, that means
the schoolhouse operates as two schools in one building, with
about 900 students attending classes from morning until half-past
noon, and another 900 from 1 p.m. until evening. There are two
principals and two sets of teachers. Students have only five
hours of classroom time, very little space for such things as
physical education and neither lockers nor hot meals.
As Hong Kong prepares for a historic transition July 1 ending
150 years of British rule, the incoming Chinese administration is
facing a range of leftover problems on such issues as housing,
welfare and the environment. But perhaps no area is more in need
of immediate attention than Hong Kong's overburdened, highly
regulated education system.
Topping the schools' agenda is serious overcrowding, which is
likely to increase with the expected influx of thousands of
immigrant children from China. Beyond that immediate crisis, some
of the transition's most emotional issues are being played out in
the territory's classrooms: How should teachers deal with
sensitive topics of Chinese history, such as the Cultural
Revolution of 1966-76 and the 1989 Tiananmen Square massacre?
What should be taught about politics and democracy when the new
government is talking of rolling back electoral reforms?
And there is another, extremely sensitive concern: Which
language, English or Cantonese, should be used for teaching?
Tung Chee-hwa, the man chosen by China to run Hong Kong
beginning July 1, has made reform of its struggling education
system one of his top priorities. Tung has appointed Antony K.
Leung, a managing director of Chase Manhattan Bank, as a member
of his executive council with special responsibility for
education.
Leung is now holding a two-month series of public sessions --
meeting with teachers, parents, principals, politicians and
business groups -- aimed at helping Tung formulate a
comprehensive education policy to take Hong Kong into the next
century.
The first job, Leung said, is to upgrade facilities, and that
means building more schools and spending more money -- which
wealthy Hong Kong, with $46 billion in reserves, has in plentiful
supply. Hong Kong now spends less than 3 percent of its gross
national product on education, compared with 5 percent in most
developed countries.
"We must put more resources into basic education," Leung said.
"A half-day school is just not acceptable." With crowded,
half-day schools, students have little time to speak with their
teachers and during their off-hours often end up hanging out in
video game parlors or getting into trouble with street gangs.
If Leung speaks with a tone of urgency, it is because the
overcrowding problem is likely to increase dramatically after the
handover. There are now 932,165 students in Hong Kong. But just
across the border in southern China are an estimated 130,000
children born to Hong Kong fathers -- all of whom have the right
to move here and enter local schools after July 1.
Another difficult issue facing the new government will be how to
imbue students with a new sense of Chinese nationalism and
patriotism, particularly in a society made up largely of refugees
from Chinese communism who remain skeptical about the incoming
sovereign power.
At the Sheng King Hui Primary School, Principal William S.H. Lee
shows visitors a box containing the latest educational aids from
the government education department. The teaching kit is called
"Know More About China," and it includes a fold-out,
three-dimensional map of China, a jigsaw puzzle that forms the
new seal of what will be the Hong Kong Special Administrative
Region and useful tips about Hong Kong's incoming administration.
The school has sponsored an essay competition to encourage
students to learn more about the handover.
In the past, under a school system largely patterned on the
British model, very little attention was paid to politics or
civics, and geography and history courses were largely devoted to
teaching young people about Europe, not China just across the
border.
The government even has a law on the books that allows the
governor here to control "the dissemination of information, or
expression of opinion, of a clearly biased political nature in
schools."
That law was rarely used, because schools, and students,
remained largely apolitical. Hong Kong's democrats are now trying
to repeal it before the Chinese take control.
"Nothing is going to change for me," said Lisa Yip, principal of
Shatin Tsung Tsin High School. "I'm not going to hang the
national flag or have the students sing the national anthem every
day."
In the past, this school's teachers and administrators seem to
have come close to the limits of what the future government might
consider "biased" political information in classrooms.
For example, a few weeks ago, Yip ordered her school's teachers
of Chinese history to take 140 students on a field trip to a
local movie theater. They went to see
The Gate of Heavenly Peace
, a documentary film on the June 4, 1989, massacre by Chinese
soldiers of hundreds, if not thousands, of students rallying for
democracy in Beijing.
Chinese history teacher Hugo Cheung, who accompanied the
students, said he thought seeing the film was good for his class
because "it showed them some of the facts they didn't know
already." But he also knows that after July, an outing to see a
controversial film -- or broaching such sensitive topics as
Taiwanese democracy -- may mark him as a subversive in the
classroom.
"Avoid sensitive issues like June 4; that is what we have been
asked to do," Cheung said. "We've been advised to scurry around
these issues." Beginning in July, he said, "I will be more and
more careful in talking about these kinds of events. Some history
teachers say they will just slide over it, just skip it."
Principal Yip's school is one of Hong Kong's officially
designated English-language high schools. Most students at the
school seem to have no problem speaking English, although a group
of students interviewed said they never speak English at home or
with friends. But the students here at Shatin Tsung Tsin may be
the linguistic exception. Of Hong Kong's 460 high schools, about
85 percent are English-language institutions -- but almost
everyone agrees that the English spoken in Hong Kong, even by
high school graduates, is far from fluent. Students do not get to
reinforce their English education at home, where they often speak
Cantonese, and some understand so little English that they fail
to grasp much of what is taught in the classroom.
Advocates of "mother tongue" teaching say students should be
educated in their native Cantonese and learn English as a foreign
language. The idea is catching on; the government education
department ordered all high schools to switch to instruction in
Cantonese this year unless they can prove their students and
teachers are fluent in English.
Some parents oppose the move to Cantonese, believing their
children will fare better later in life if they graduate from
English-language schools. "My mother and father always force me
to speak English," said Maxine Li, 18, a high school senior,
speaking in Cantonese. "They think English is more important."
"What we have to make sure is that, while there is more use of
Chinese and less use of English in some sectors, we increase
English proficiency" said education czar Leung. "That's one of my
most difficult challenges."
© Copyright 1997 The Washington Post Company