Wei-fan
Chang
GE1401
University English
Analytical
Essay
OF TWO WORLDS
The question, “From where do you
hail from?” to me, is not an easy question.
In retrospect, my prolonged exposure to both Eastern and Western
cultures has granted me a far better understanding of most world events than
both cultures themselves provide. The
ability to juxtapose two strongly divergent social systems implies deeper a
significance other than a simple evaluation of each—the implications trigger a
series of thought processes that ultimately lead to a unique and fundamentally
different perspective than most people entertain. While it is true that living with such
duality has its personal drawbacks, it is my belief that the benefits of such a
lifestyle far outstrip the costs, as the conclusions obtained through this
thorough analysis pose even wider and far-reaching implications that transcend
the monotony of daily life.
I had the unique opportunity to spend my childhood in two widely
divergent worlds. In my primary years, I
frolicked in the rural countryside of rural South Carolina; during my
adolescence, I lived under the shadow of colossal Asian cityscapes. What effects could this bicultural experience
have wrought upon me? For starters, I
often get peppered with questions like, “Do you consider yourself Western or
Eastern?” or “Which is better? America
or Taiwan?” Naturally, these questions
are purely subjective, and are relatively easy to answer, but the greatest
implications are much more subtle.
To start off, Eastern and
Western cultures are a tough mix. For a
child who had to make the transition from rural South Carolina to the highly
urbanized island of Taiwan, one can get a serious case of cultural shock. In America, we were taught the idea of
“rugged individualism”, which stressed the importance of individuality,
intuition, and independence; as such, we were urged to pursue our own life
goals to their fullest. Taiwan’s
educational system, on the other hand, stressed efficiency, discipline, and
usefulness—every lesson and quiz drilled into us was designed to streamline a
basic set of skills required for any occupation. Personal quirks were discarded in favor of
teamwork and harmony. Understandably, as
a carefree country bumpkin, I was horrified by this kind of facelessness—the
idea of surrendering one’s identity was, in my opinion at the time, equivalent
to murder. My child eyes saw the
education system as a giant robot factory, with cookie-cutter students
graduating off an assembly line.
However, as I gradually became
accustomed to the new, fast-paced system, my eyes gradually perceived something
I failed to notice. The fast-pace,
no-nonsense drive of education in Asia ensured a highly competent workforce
that was not just in demand in Taiwan’s high-tech industries, but everywhere in
the global economy. For example, in
South Carolina, multiplication was only gently introduced in fourth grade; in
Taiwan, first graders end their year with problems in addition, subtraction,
multiplication, and division—many students attend special cram schools known as
buxiban in order to maintain this
edge. There is a pervading Western
stereotype that Asian children are better at mathematics and science than
American teenagers; initially dismissed as an urban myth while in the US, I
realized its validity when I was shocked to discover that my childhood years
spent in the US at a prestigious private institution had made me lag behind
academically in Taiwan’s public schools.
We were able to best giants not because we were inherently better, but because
Asian students on average practice much more than their American counterparts. Although I was mercifully spared the fate of going
to buxiban like many of my
classmates, I ended my first year in Taiwan with a new realization: intuition
alone is useless without skill and discipline.
A recent trip down Memory Lane
invoked a mixed response within me as I revisited my childhood: everything I
saw was exactly the same as I remembered it, and yet, nothing was. I recognized the trailer park where I lived,
but it no longer was the lively playground I once saw it—it was a broken,
backwater neighborhood with flimsy telephone poles and forest saplings. Every image silently spoke of crippling
poverty. A rapid conclusion offered
reprieve: intuition without skill and discipline leads to poverty; but I
realized that there was something integral in my childhood that shaped my way
of thinking—even though most people in rural South Carolina did not make much
money, most people were still very comfortable because they were content and had
attained their life goals. This is in
direct contrast to one of the major flaws of Asian education—many are unhappy
because they were forced into a profession against their choice, or were simply
lost and didn’t know what to wish for.
This second realization brings everything full circle and completes the
philosophy: one needs intuition to dream and aspire, and one must have the
necessary skills and discipline to make it happen in order to be happy.
This revelation had a curious
effect upon my reasoning. Either side,
when evaluated individually, views itself as the truth and the other as heresy;
South Carolinians see Taiwan’s urbanized education system as something straight
out of 1984, while rural America is the epitome of destitution, stagnation, and
backwardness. It is only after one has a
taste of both worlds that one realizes the polar opposites are actually two
halves of an even greater truth. This in
turn sparked a deeper line of thinking and created a wider approach. My favorite analogy is the concept of
3D-glasses. Individually, our eyes can
only understand two-dimensional light; the illusion of depth is created by
minute differences between two different pictures. The two halves complete each other, and it is
this “depth” that is the “greater truth”; once one sees it the greater truth,
it lends a whole new perspective on life.
Cumulative revelations tend to
snowball, and this one was no exception.
I quickly realized that the key point is that there is rarely a singular
or perfect truth, and one should keep one’s eyes open and consider events from
all perspectives before making a decision.
Only after one has seen everything can one truly understand anything.
