Preface#
I am preparing to start a new series, inspired by the previous article on treating others as oneself and oneself as others, and even earlier inspiration came from my girlfriend's observation — "Why do you never talk about your past?" Overall, I realized that I am consciously trying to forget something, which is probably a form of self-protection. This is quite common and often difficult to discover on one's own; I am no exception. If I keep avoiding looking at the past and keep hiding, I will never be able to move on. So, I started this series, titled "See Me," beginning with my high school experience under the strict regime of Hengshui, which I least want to recall.
Note that what I write next is not meant to criticize the Hengshui system; I do not want to deny any part of my past (this is something I used to do, blaming my parents, school, society, etc.), because they have all contributed to who I am today. My goal is to see, understand, accept, and transcend. I do not know if I can achieve this ultimate goal, but I need to start now and try to see.
Remembering My High School#
If you ask me what my first impression is when I think of my high school, I would say it’s running around to eat, classmates chattering and reciting in crowded classrooms, the teacher's lectures going in one ear and out the other while I dozed off, and my mom cooking in the morning after I returned home. The images are very chaotic and starting to blur; it’s quite terrifying. However, it has only been six or seven years, and I have almost forgotten about my high school, which occupied nearly one-eighth of my life (I was 24 when I wrote this).
Next, I will try to dig deeper, starting from one point to see what I can recall. For example, the scene of reciting texts, umm, like reciting Chinese literature. In Chinese class, there was a mandatory recitation list; during morning self-study, everyone had to recite a few ancient poems. The teacher would randomly check during class.
Our Chinese teacher was very strict, a thin female teacher, probably around thirty years old (most teachers were about that age; there weren’t many older teachers in their forties or younger teachers in their twenties). She often punished us for reciting incorrectly, but I don’t remember the specific forms of punishment — was it hitting our palms? Standing in the corner? Something else? I was probably one of those who got punished often because I have never been good at rote memorization, not since childhood. I admire those who can keep going without knowing what they are doing. The best I could recite was Qu Yuan's "Li Sao," particularly the line, "Long sighs to cover my tears, lamenting the hardships of the people." (Though I have mostly forgotten it now), and also "Guo Shang," which was not on the mandatory list. How did I memorize it? I imagined myself as Qu Yuan 😂, feeling that sadness while reciting and getting angry with myself, and that’s how I managed to memorize it. As for "Teng Wang Ge Xu," it was the hardest for me to memorize. It looked pretty cool, but I couldn’t remember it at all; I would forget it after memorizing it (I might mix up knowledge points from middle school and high school; I think "Teng Wang Ge Xu" is from middle school?).
Similarly, there were many formulas in math that I couldn’t memorize at all. During exams, I would draw diagrams and derive them on the spot, like various formulas for trigonometric functions, such as the sum and difference formulas (I have forgotten them all; I checked first, so if I’m wrong, please point it out).
Sum formulas
Difference formulas
This necessity to understand in order to memorize forced me to dig deep into many layers of knowledge. I remember there was a geometric formula whose derivation was in the textbook's extension section; the teacher didn’t teach it at all, and none of the classmates cared. Only I read it from beginning to end, understood it, and repeatedly calculated until I could derive it anytime in the exam room; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to memorize this formula at all.
For someone like me who faces exams, this is quite disadvantageous. Others can quickly get answers by applying formulas, while I have to spend several minutes deriving the formula before I can solve it. This directly leads to me often not finishing my math exams; it’s not that I don’t know how to write, but I genuinely can’t remember, just like with "Teng Wang Ge Xu," forgetting after memorizing and memorizing after forgetting. I don’t put in less effort than others (I also can’t solve those challenging problems; it has nothing to do with whether I can derive formulas; even if I can derive them, I still can’t write them down).
Now that I am in graduate school, I still have to face various exams in medical school. My ability to memorize is still terrible, but this characteristic continues to push me to dig deep into many layers. For example, when learning a prescription, I might have to go through the original text, later annotations, and the teacher's lecture notes to understand it before I can memorize it. For instance, when studying jaundice, I need to thoroughly understand the metabolism of bilirubin in physiology to grasp the seemingly simple question of "Why does jaundice appear yellow?" But it is precisely this pressure that makes me have a particularly deep impression of the knowledge I have studied seriously. In the future, when encountering related knowledge, I can quickly connect it because I have already laid a solid foundation. This is also why I feel that studying medicine really requires a science background; this ability to reason and derive is indeed very important in traditional Chinese medicine. I increasingly feel that medicine becomes simpler the more I learn; as long as I have a solid foundation, clinical problems are merely about establishing connections between knowledge. One can never escape physiology, pathology, and diagnosis (though I am slowly starting to focus on the big picture and let go of the small details; there is too much knowledge, and not everything needs to be approached this way).
End#
Unknowingly, I have already written about two thousand words. This text has transitioned from vague memories to characteristics of my learning style, as I mentioned at the beginning, without making any evaluations. My Hengshui experience is just a part of me; all I need to do is see, understand, and accept. If I can transcend it, that would be even better.
It’s quite amazing; after writing all this, I suddenly feel much more at ease. Perhaps my subconscious has resolved a knot through this. Thank you for reading this far, and I wish you a smooth flow of liver qi and a well-regulated spleen and stomach!
More#
Looking back, the ending feels a bit abrupt; I will continue later.