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Original article with images: https://mp.weixin.qq.com/s?__biz=MjEwMzA5NTcyMQ==&mid=2653184747&idx=1&sn=1c77bccce549d238780b0c0b43b90892
The story of Zheng Yajun, 33 years old, can be written as two versions. One version is: undergraduate, then research student at Fudan University [in Shanghai], whose undergraduate thesis won the "Outstanding Paper" award at the China Sociology Annual Conference, and whose master's thesis won the "Outstanding Thesis" award at the first national Forum for Empirical Research in Education. Obtaining the "Fudan University Outstanding Graduate", "Shanghai City Outstanding Graduate" positions, currently she is at Hong Kong University doing a PhD. A standard elite figure.
Another version is: she grew up in a relatively remote location, in Gansu province Zhangye city region [1], her father dying when she was young, being raised by her single mother. In high school, Zheng Yajun spent all her time on her studies, however due to excessive nerves, failed her first attempt at the Gaokao [Chinese SATs / A-levels / Bacc], and had to re-take them. The second year after succesfully passing her exams and entering Fudan, she couldn't understand her teachers' lectures, and couldn't even understand her schoolmates who came from big cities when they were chatting. In the fourth year of university, she discovered that she couldn't prepare an exit path for after graduation, and therefore had to apply to delay her graduation for another year.
In some sense, it's the Zheng Yajun from this latter version that created the former one. After suffering setback at university, she started to think: how are the exit paths for university students formed? Why is it that students from poorer backgrounds, often run into obstacles after entering an elite university, and find it hard to assimilate? Like everyone else they aced the same exams, why are their exit paths so extremely different?
Zheng Yajun interviewed 62 students from 2 elite universities. They came from different backgrounds, and had different experiences at university as well as career directions. Zheng Yajun discovered that elite universities are a meticulously arranged "maze" - students must decide as early as possible what sort of exit path they want to follow, as well as have the skillset to be aware of and to prepare for university life - on the large scale, planning for their career, and on the small scale, selecting courses, participating in all sorts of activities, and collecting real-life work experiences for their resume. Only by doing all this can they successfully "pass the level", and obtain an exit path after graduation that is as ideal as possible.
During this process, those students from elite backgrounds would often gain key advantages due to their familiarity with the aforementioned rules and patterns, and students from weaker backgrounds frequently would instead experience a stage of extreme confusion and not knowing what to do next, with some even hastily snatching whatever opportunity they could get right before their graduation. The way you attended university, made a massive difference in determining your path after graduation.
Zheng Yajun took this topic as the subject of her master's thesis, and then extended this into a book titled "After Acing the Exam - the puzzle of the diverging life paths of university students". In this book, she undertook analyses based on the examples from her interviews, and revealed the causes and processes of this divergence in life paths. As a student from a poor background herself, she empathised even more with those students similar to her. She mused, having "fallen behind" for a time is not too important, what is more important is to find a place where you feel true meaning and value, and to work hard at your practices.
The below has been compiled from Zheng Yajun's narration as well as related content from "After Acing the Exam".
Text | Luo Lan
Editor | Chu Ming
Images | Supplied by interviewee [i.e. Zheng Yajun] unless otherwise indicated
In 2018, I was a first-year PhD at Hong Kong University [HKU]. One August evening, a senior classmate and I were standing at the campus roadside, chatting about how we felt about our new fieldwork investigations. Back then, I had just finished interviewing the Fudan university students [in Shanghai] we had recruited, and felt we had a lot of new discoveries.
By that time, on the topic of university student exit paths, I had already done research for almost 5 years. From Fudan to HKU, I had been continuously chasing the question: in terms of university students' background and the elite education they had received from their first-class university, how do these factors jointly produce an influence on individuals' career choices, causing their exit paths after graduation to diverge?
When I was an undergraduate at Fudan, the directions of the other undergraduates from my alma mater [Fudan] were roughly 30% foreign exchange student, 30% [masters'] research, and 30% employment. The overall data seems flashy, but we can't brush away the sharp differences between individuals: some people had lots of excellent offers, other people only hastily found work right before graduation, and yet others could not decide what they should do, and so copied the habits of the good students to go into [masters'] research or even a PhD, to give 5-6 long future years' worth of time to an academic research topic that they didn't truly love... and I myself couldn't even figure out an exit path during my fourth year, and could only apply to delay my graduation for another year. We attended the same university, why were our exit paths so extremely different?
Luckily right then, I discovered by chance the perspective and explanatory power of sociology. Although my major was sociology, in fact before then I had never truly understood sociology, and didn't know what it could be used for, only unquestioningly and automatically following the teacher, treating sociology as pure abstract "knowledge" and learning it by rote.
In fourth year of university, I chose a general-knowledge minor course "Theory of Traditional Chinese Medicine". Originally I thought it would talk about prescribing medicine, selecting herbs, and so on. I did not think that the course would be taught by a biochemisty researcher, who entirely used modern scientific methods to talk about traditional Chinese medicine.
For example, what are the active chemical ingredients in certain types of Chinese medicinal herbs. Suddenly I had an inspiration, and concluded that the same topic can be treated from lots of different perspectives. Taking another look at sociology, I discovered that it provides a sort of structural framework, to look at how the fates of individuals have been affected by what sorts of larger-scale factors. It was in this way, as I approached graduation, that I finally became aware of what sociology was doing.
I found our department's Professor Zhou Yi, and told her I wanted to use the methods of cultural sociology to study university students. Although at the time I did not stand out in my class at all, Professor Zhou still gave me a lot of encouragement, she suggested I continue my advanced studies - "actually any topic can give some results, you just have to find a good entry point to penetrate it". The year that I delayed graduation, I calmed down and read lots of related books. I thought, since I already decided to do academic research, I can take it slowly, and slowly in fact would be quicker in the end.
After graduating, I entered Fudan's Research Institute for Higher Education [RIHE] and formally started my research. In order to strengthen my foundational skills in sociology, during my time at RIHE I even "doctored" my training plan, and took the initiative to select quite a lot of specialist courses for researchers at the sociology department, and continued to hang out with many of my schoolmates who had entered research directly at the sociology department. We had a group of about 5-6 people, all interested in educational sociology, and together we took Professor Li Yu's new course on "Education and Society". When we ate we would chat about topics related to our research, sometimes we also grabbed Professor Li to eat with us. We were just like an academic mini-community, and much of the improvements in my research capabilities came from this community.
I first found 18 students at Fudan to interview, and later I also went to a famous university in the north and interviewed 20 students. Understanding their family situation - their family economic situation, region [that their family came from], did their parents receive higher education, their own feelings about school and the effort they put into it, as well as their future career direction.
At first, when I was talking to those schoolmates from good backgrounds with intense elite mannerisms, I was a bit nervous. I came from a small county town in the northwest. My impression had been that these sorts of schoolmates were all very confident, and freely put forward their opinions on people and affairs, even to the point of being picky.
In fact, this was indeed the case. For example Jingwei from the Mathematics Academy had family in Shanghai, his parents were all business middle managers, and his family had 4 apartments in downtown Shanghai. He graduated from a certain high school that belonged to the top of Shanghai's "Four Famous Schools" [among the most coveted schools in China], the school had established over 500 developmental courses for students to select. Jingwei's high school career, was totally different from the painstaking studies in the common public imagination. When chatting with him, a term he often used to describe himself was "being interested", and he would bluntly criticise many schoolmates at the Mathematics Academy who though absolutely were excellent in their studies, were "not interested enough", "and in the end still went to the Four Famous Schools, this sort of very ordinary very low-risk place".
In contrast to this was the following, schoolmates from relatively poor backgrounds who appeared entirely bewildered and conservative [in their mannerisms]. Bingqian was a left-behind child [who stayed in their home villages to be taken care of by their grandparents, whilst their parents lived in other cities to work], who entered Fudan from the Hunan province countryside. Their family had never produced a university student before, and nobody had told her "how to attend" university and what to do there. Bingqian thought that simply being at university gave her freedom, naively and ignorantly selected courses based on her interests, binge-watched TV, and in third year discovered that her grade points were insufficient to qualify to directly (as in, to be exempted from entry exam requirements to) to be a postgraduate research student. She also had no work experience whatsoever, hurriedly applied for the examinations to be a research student only to fail at that as well, and fell into the trap of having no more paths to go. Sitting opposite me, Bingqian's eyes revealed her frustration and regret. The northern university's Yuhai came from the Shandong province countryside, and though his grades were pretty good, he had become aware of the differences between him and his schoolmates. For example, it was only when his schoolmates were planning to leave China, that he realised that this was even an option: "my own experiences together with the limitations of my environment, means that my awareness towards certain questions will be later than others by a couple of years, which makes a huge difference."
As the cases accumulated, I realised more and more clearly, that university is a meticulously arranged "maze", and that there is no single "main path" or standard exit strategy. Every subpath (e.g. research, student union, club, etc) each has their own universe. The students each on their respective subpaths are exploring how to push their way through, on one hand selecting their future route, on the other hand collecting all sorts of valuable "tokens" (grades, experiences, awards, etc) from their journey so far.
There are three major ways to the exit of the "maze" - foreign exchange student, domestic research, and seeking employment, corresponding to different requirements and exchange rates for "tokens". For example if you plan to be a foreign exchange student, you must emphasise raising your grades and your foreign language abilities, and ideally even participate in academic research and exchange projects with foreign universities; if you want to prepare to seek employment, grades are of secondary importance, real-life work experience and a thorough understanding of industry is much more important.
After entering an elite university, students must decide as early as possible which sort of exit path they want to follow, as well as have the skillset to be aware of and to prepare for university life - on the large scale, planning for their career, and on the small scale, selecting courses, participating in all sorts of activities, and collecting real-life work experiences for their resume. Only by doing all this can they successfully "pass the level", and upon graduating convert the "tokens" they've collected into an exit path that is as ideal as possible. And this skillset, is more often brought in from families with better economic and cultural backgrounds. To put it another way, those schoolmates that come from good backgrounds, "know how to attend university" better than others do.
That winter as I gave interviews at that northern university, after saying goodbye to the interviewees, I often got lost in the enormous campus grounds. Just like me [sic], and the other students like me, due to lacking support from a superior cultural background, in the fourth year of university, it was hard to find a suitable road.
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Image sourced from Visual China
In the first half of fourth year at university, I was an exchange student at the Chinese University of Hong Kong [CUHK]. My dormitory was halfway up the hills, just facing Tulou Bay, when you gazed out you wouldn't see an end to the vast ocean. I felt my life was just like this, not being able to see my exit path.
The past three years of being at my wits' end in my university career had brought about this result. Entering the first year of university, I especially could not resolve one particular issue. From childhood to adulthood, I've already put in enough painstaking effort, I didn't waste a single day, so why is it that compared to my other schoolmates, I seemed so inferior?
How inferior, well even to the point of not understanding other people talk. In my dormitory I had three roommates, one from Shanghai, one from Kunming, one from Shenyang, I was the only one to come from a place lower than a provincial capital. They were very friendly, but I discovered that I couldn't understand them chatting. They said "TOEFL", my face froze in utter confusion, like what is that?
Upon entering university there was an English test, and according to the results of this you were placed into different levels of classes for English. My roommates all entered the top-level class, the one I entered was the second-to-bottom-level. One could say that even if I didn't take the test, I would still have been placed there. Even more humiliating, was that I couldn't even understand the class at this level. My Gaokao [Chinese SAT] English score was 136, which isn't that low, but I had always learnt [English] according to the exam requirements, and my actual English skill level wasn't enough to construct sentences that could be used for daily life.
Selecting courses also left me bewildered. Aren't courses supposed to be prepared already by the university, why would you still have to select them yourself? My roommates also weren't too sure what to select, but they would find their senior schoolmates and ask them for advice, bringing back a bit of experience from this. For example, as far as possible try to finish taking the general knowledge courses during your first year, and also try to finish other courses as early as possible, so that in your senior years you'll have time to go out and get some real-life work experiences. I tried to learn from everyone else's selection methods but just poorly imitated them, like using a picture of a cat to draw a tiger. I even had to go to the campus computer room to do all this, because I didn't have a laptop at the time, because in my old hometown it was "generally known" that this wasn't a necessary item.
As for specialist courses, I faced another problem. Among the mandatory specialist courses during first years there was Professor Xu Ke's "Introduction to Sociology". Professor Xu Ke taught the course well and it was quite well-known, because this course was the basis for many other advanced courses, and schoolmates from other academies also had a lot of praise for it. Even the journalism department had many students that selected his course. In his teaching he often used many films to give examples, like "The Name of the Rose", "Tower of Babel", "The Truman Show", "The Shawshank Redemption", to help students understand sociology concepts that were still very unfamiliar at least to us back then. However I had never even heard of any of these films, never mind about understanding the underlying theory.
Later on when I was more familiar with Professor Xu Ke, I told him, back in those times I fell asleep during his lectures, because I could not understand them. Once I woke up in a daze, only seeing his hands waving back and forth in the air, saying "And so it is in this way that society emerges". My mind was full of apprehension, thinking what the hell is this, that society can emerge out of something?
Another time, the Professor was complimenting a classmate's coursework. Even now I remember that piece of work was called "Underneath the Golden Arches", talking about the McDonaldisation of society. People familiar with those cultural icons would immediately understand that this is saying that society and McDonald's are similar, becoming more fast-paced, more fluid. But I couldn't understand, and could only think that my classmate was so smart and so skillful, I only knew that McDonald's is for food, how could they abstract a bunch of topics from it?
Many of the students we sourced at Fudan came from the more developed and advanced regions of the Yangtze delta provinces [Jiangsu, Zhejiang, Shanghai], and in those years independently-recruited students took up a considerable proportion of them. You know, the requirements for independently-recruited students, tends more towards filtering through students with good family cultural backgrounds, wide perspectives, and who have had independent thinking abilities since an early age. Whereas myself in high school, apart from Sanmao [famous Chinese comic from the early 1900s], basically didn't read any books outside of my course materials. And even Sanmao, it was only after having gone through many tricky exam questions, that I squeezed in some time to sneakily have a look at it. In terms of knowledge in humanities and other social topics, my understanding can be said to be zero. My mother was educated in agriculture and forestry, she also didn't understand that stuff, and couldn't offer me any insight. Slowly, I became aware that the cultural foundations of myself and many other schoolmates were different. When they used that certain set of phrases and expressions that only they commonly understood to chat amongst themselves, me being in the middle of that crowd, was like a caveman at the top of a mountain. [TODO]
Even when participating in a social club, cultural capital still played an effect in the background. I joined the campus media, but didn't know how to select a topic, couldn't figure out something worthy to report on, the drafts I wrote also didn't meet their requirements, and so left the club not long afterwards. Previously I had also wanted to join the academic department of the student union, since I thought it sounded pretty high-class and dignified. During the interview the older student asked me, suppose we organised some activity, and the guests were late, you as the organiser must sing a song to maintain the atmosphere, what song would you sing? Do you know what I'd sing? I'd sing: The little bird leads the way from the front, the wind blows in our direction. [Chinese nursery song].
As a result, of course, I didn't pass the intervew. After that I thought, the older student's interview question was a sort of "cultural password", to see if my and their requirements were compatible. If I sang a song that was popular with young people, or a song that was less popular but appeared more tasteful, I certainly could have passed. But in the three years of senior high school I didn't permit myself to listen to any songs. Because as soon as I heard a melody it would be etched in my brain playing repeatedly, affecting my studies. When I got taxis to take my exams, I even specifically asked the taxi driver not to play any music. Thereafter, I had absolutely no idea what songs were popular.
Afterwards during my interviews I understood, that many schoolmates from weak backgrounds had all experienced some shock similar to mine. Since we didn't have the grasp of cultural knowledge and cultural skills that was implicitly present at elite universities, we ran into a "cultural obstacle".
For the whole four years at university, I was chasing the schoolmates around me, trying to at least appear to be on their level. No matter what else, my grades must not fall behind. I looked for teaching materials, drew diagrams of key topics, recited [articles], and answered tests. If we had to write a thesis or read textbooks and take notes from them, I would slowly figure out what sort of article flow the teacher liked, and write according to this. After all I'm not stupid, I spent all day thinking and working on these topics, and could still pull my grades through. However my intrinsic nature did not change, I was still thinking along the same lines and using the same methods of a test-loving-nerd [2]. My social circle was also limited to schoolmates that had similar backgrounds to myself. Later on, we read Harvard Professor Anthony Abraham Jack's "The Privileged Poor" [Title in Chinese more like, "[How] kids from poor families go to university"], in the book he points out that "succesfully entering university doesn't necessarily imply successful assimilation", like myself then, who in fact hadn't assimilated into the mainstream cultural background and life of the university.
When fourth year came, I got an opportunity to go to Hong Kong to be an exchange student. Actually this move was also just going along with the mainstream, since schoolmates all went overseas to be exchange students, mostly going in second or third year. Since my English wasn't great, I had kept delaying this since I didn't want to take a language exam, delaying all the way until fourth year. At the time I was still very happy though, although it was a bit late, in the end I could still appear to be on a similar level as my schoolmates.
After enjoying some fresh new experiences for a while, the pressure of having to find an exit path for after graduation came back. It was only now that I discovered I had mostly not made any preparations for any of the several mainstream paths. I had volunteered for a very long time at a social development public welfare institution, my working capabilities were well-recognised there, and so I thought, how about going there to work. But in fact the teacher who supervised me there [at the public welfare institution] told me, that [personal] development via domestic [mainland China] social work was not ideal in any sense, and that because of my [good] school background, it wasn't necessary to do this sort of work, and rejected me. If I'd wanted to stay at the university for [masters'] research, I would've had to start preparing a series of formal processes for this from [the upcoming] October, but since I was currently in Hong Kong, and [therefore] was on leave from Fudan, there was no way for me to apply. As for going overseas [outside of PRC including HK] to be a foreign exchange student, I also had not made any preparations or plans in advance.
In those few months I was extremely anxious, could only fall asleep every night after 3-4am in the morning, couldn't wake up until late morning, and lost many large clumps of hair. Once I woke up late, realised I had an oral exam for my Cantonese course, hurriedly rushed to the exam location, only to find the classroom empty. I stood for a while, and then left in despair.
Missing this exam didn't have a particularly serious effect on my grades, but brought me a great psychological shock. I realised that my situation had deteriorated to a stage where I could no longer even maintain my normal day-to-day life. At the end of the year, since I had still not found a solution for my exit path, I finally decided to delay my graduation by a year.
Not being able to graduate on time, of course I felt defeated. Fortunately by that time, sociology's nutrients could already provide me with some help. I thought that, falling into this predicament wasn't entirely my fault, but rather also due a considerable degree to my having grown up in a small county town in the northwest [of China], starting from a lower position than others, coming to a famous university, I need more time to adapt. Well, that's what I told myself at the time.
Up to this day I feel grateful to Fudan, for giving me some buffer space when I had no other paths to follow. By that time I had already finished taking all my courses, and didn't have a so-called normal reason to request a delayed graduation. But the school quickly approved my application for delay.
As I returned to Fudan from Hong Kong, my dormitory friends were waiting for me outside our block, helping to carry all my luggage big and small. In the midst of this caring atmosphere, I was soothed and calmed down. Delaying by one year, also allowed me to finally have a bit of breathing space, to look for my direction.
From that time, I started to think about researching the exit paths of university students. Doesn't everyone say that, after entering a good university, and receiving a good education, one would certainly have a bright path ahead? Why was it that after four years I had still not found a path? Where actually was the bottleneck that had got me stuck? What actually was the relationship between education versus social stratification and social mobility? I urgently wanted to find clear solutions to these questions.
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Zheng Yajun as she conducted interviews at campus
In some sense I myself have achieved quite a good [social] mobility, by relying on education. In high school, I was always a bit of a test-loving-nerd [2], the sort of person to put in the utmost effort to achieve perfection.
When I was little, before 5th grade to be precise, I had a pretty ordinary kid's life, very carefree. My family lived in Gansu province, Zhangye city region [1], Linze county, my father worked at the NDRC [National Development and Reform Commission], my mother at the Forestry Department. They were university students of the 1980s, the previous century, and had achieved success in their lives via university, breaking out of poverty from their old rural homes this way.
In those times, my father had a pretty smooth and steady working environment, managed to become the director of the NDRC, and my mother thought that it was enough for a household to have one person with a working career, and that she should dedicate the majority of her time and effort to the family and child. Her workplace wanted her to get some grassroots work experience [3], to make it easier to recommend her for promotion later, but she wasn't willing, and preferred not to get promoted, for the sake of not having to leave home.
The year that I was in 5th grade, my father was in a fatal car accident. He left the house as normal, and just like that he was gone. Overnight, my mother's entire behavioural logic changed. She realised that her reliable anchor was gone, and mine too, and could now only rely on herself. From that time, there was only one thing in the most important main topics of my mother's life, and that was to put all her resources and strength that she could gather to use, towards supporting my education.
She transferred me to a junior high school in a neighbouring county, sending me [there] to stay with our relatives. Because Linze [our original] county was too small, everyone would know what happened with our family. At the time I was the class leader at school, sometimes had to deal with naughty classmates, and some kids would use "you don't have a dad" etc as a way to ridicule me. My mother was afraid that this would affect me, and so transferred me to another school. At once, my life was turned completely upside-down, from being a precious daughter that didn't have to worry about anything, to suddenly having to leave my hometown without anything to rely on.
Actually back then I didn't necessarily understand what death was, and what sort of effect my father not being there would have on me. When he was here he didn't really control or manage me, his only responsibility was to buy me things to eat and to play with, whereas taking care of me on a daily basis was my mother's job. The thing that most directly affected me was my mother's anxiety. I was only 11, and she just kept repeating over and over, what would we do if you don't pass your university exams, oh what would we do?
Sometimes my mother could not sleep in the middle of the night, and would talk to herself, as if talking to my father, complaining "you have no problems now that you're dead, but what can I do, I have no way to live but I mustn't die" [4]. After I heard this I felt a sense of guilt, feeling that if it wasn't for me, my mother could have simply followed my father into death. I also could not figure out, how could I have turned from a treasure into such a liability?
In those days I would often have dreams, where my mother might have killed herself some day, or suffered a breakdown that broke her spirit, and was no longer able to take care of me. I was always trying to plan, if that really happened, how much was our house worth, could I sell it, and which relatives could I turn to to ask for help. Later on, after many years of reminiscing over my life, I discovered that many of my dreads and panics, actually originated from those days.
As I graduated from junior high, my mother thought that the senior high schools in the Zhangye [urban] city districts were better, and tried her utmost to think of a way to transfer us from Linze county to Zhangye city. As you know, wanting to transfer from a county town to an [urban] city district is especially difficult, but she indeed got it done, for the sake of giving me the chance to go to senior high in Zhangye city.
After I had studied humanities in the second year of senior high, I truly reached the most extreme degree of working hard. Because I had not adapted tremendously to the first year, I wasn't great at mathematics, and my English was pretty mediocre, my overall grades were relatively poor. My mother found all sorts of people to work on me psychologically, for example my dad had a classmate who was the principal of the locally-famous Folk Music Middle School No. 1 [5], so my mum took me to his home to receive a lecture, listening to him say, since [the trajectory of] your current grades are completely unable to pass through to university, you cannot carry on like this, look at how much your mum has invested in you, you don't have a choice, you must study properly and seriously.
The start of our school day was already pretty early, 7:30 or 7:00 was our first class, and for the sake of studying a bit longer, I'd go in half an hour even earlier than that, stay late in school and not sleep until 1 or 2am in the morning. The school rules said we had to do running exercises every day, I would either bunk off, or attend with a small slip of paper and run with it using the opportunity to memorise a few phrases at the same time. Truly, I spent all my time on studying. Gradually, my grades caught up, and were in a high position in the grade lists for the year.
In those times, I must have been that sort of extremely annoying goodie-two-shoes student. For example, when it came to taking exams, we were seated in the examination rooms in the order of our grades, and I was always placed in the first few seats of the first examination room, surrounded by schoolmates with similar grades. In the process of going through our exam sheets, I would purposefully carry a relaxed posture and attitude, flip the pages of my exam scroll very quickly, to flaunt that I've already advanced onto the second page, you guys still haven't turned the page, to give the schoolmates around me an extra psychological pressure. Thinking back now, when a person in a competitive situation with a desire to win excessively overthinks how to achieve this, they will truly develop a sort of evil and disgusting side of their human nature.
But actually in private, I did not have that sort of calm and collected nature at all. Before every exam I would be bursting to the brim with pressure, my mood collapsed to the point of crying, worried about what I'd do if I didn't achieve a top grade. Sometimes my mother would see me and cry along with me. The Gaokao was your only opportunity, you'd feel that the future prospects of your entire life's weighed down on it, your life hanging by a thread.
When I first took the Gaokao, it was under this sort of enormous anxiety that I messed it up. Anxious to what degree, to the degree that I couldn't even remember the Pythagorean Theorem, and consequently my results were worse than my ordinary grades by about 70-80 points. After exiting the mathematics exam, I knew I was finished, I'd have to retake them.
That year, my grades could have been promoted up a tier [6], but I didn't report my will for this. Wasn't I a student that was capable of reaching the top universities? If I went to a mediocre university, I couldn't justify my own investment, nor my mother's hard work. Every day she prepared meals for me at home, and delivered them to the classroom for me, so that after I ate I didn't even have to move my bum before continuing to study. It was only 15 minutes to walk between our home and the school, but she wanted to help me to save even this little bit of time.
The year that I retook, I spent strengthening my studies from senior high third year. I thought, since I had a catastrophe at Gaokao, this meant that I didn't grasp my knowledge reliably enough, and so I'd methodically and purposefully reinforce it again. After practising this many times, I [reached a stage where] would know the intention of a question as soon as I looked at it, the main points it was testing, its common pitfalls, and after answering it I'd know how many points I got. The anxiety was still there, but anxiety now already could not overcome my actual real abilities.
The second time I took the Gaokao, after taking the mathematics exam I realised that I probably used the wrong formula when I calculated the answer to a question. That question was 4 points, and I told my mother, if I didn't get that question wrong I'd get 146 points, but if it was wrong that 142. As it turns out I got 142. So I say, by that time I had already reached the stage of being a perfect test-loving-nerd [2] (smile).
Ultimately, my grades were 40th place in the whole province [population 20-25 million], and I entered the sociology department of Fudan University. At the time my mother took me to Lanzhou city [Gansu province capital] to see the Fudan recruiter professor, who said that due to my points, upon entering Fudan there would only be two majors to choose from, namely law and sociology. I didn't enjoy ligitation, and didn't want to study law, and since I'd watched some investigative news programs in senior high, I thought that social investigations were pretty interesting. Although I didn't know what sociology did, I thought that it should probably be related to that [social investigations]. I thought that if I could become a news journalist, doing something for society to fight for fairness and justice, this would be pretty good, and so chose sociology. Later after doing interviews, I discovered that many schoolmates when entering university had applied for majors in this ignorant and muddled way.
At the entrance to Fudan my mother who had accompanied me here took her leave, I said to her, mother don't worry, I will study well. I vaguely knew that university and senior high were different, but wasn't actually clear on exactly how different. When I said those sorts of things to my mother, my overall broad thinking still was to continue to manifest the hard working nature and tenacity of a test-loving-nerd [2], and [merely] to obtain good grades at university.
Afterwards, when my university experience was not going smoothly in any sense, when I was so anxious as an exchange student in Hong Kong, I never told my mother about it. The summer holiday just after I delayed graduation I did not return home, I was at campus sorting data with the [Fudan] Research Institute for Higher Education's Professor Xiong Qingnian, and actually didn't really want to return to face those well-meaning inquiries. Though, by that point I had already decided what to do for my next steps, and any subsequent sense of setback would no longer bother me. When my classmates graduated, I still walked the red carpet alongside them with joy.
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At her fifth-year graduation red carpet, Zheng Yajun (second from the right) walks together with her mother and two of her good friends who already graduated the previous year.
After interviewing the 18 schoolmates from Fudan, I thought that I had already found a certain sort of relationship between good family backgrounds and career preferences: schoolmates who came from not-so-strong backgrounds would often place more emphasis on repaying their family and seeking stability, and tended more to return to their home villages to become civil servants or do a similar sort of work; whereas those who came from good backgrounds preferred to choose professions where they could earn a lot of money or that they were personally interested in.
At the end of that year I went to the northern university to do interviews, originally I only wanted to validate my [preceding] discoveries, but instead ran into a challenge. At the northern university, the consensus was that many of the best students would enter an institution within the [Chinese] system, everyone thought that was the most esteemed, and making money was just a toy activity that wasn't worth anything. The framework I had constructed previously collapsed just like that in an instant.
Upon returning to Fudan, I grumbled to my supervisor, and they said to me chuckling, not being able to explain it is a kind of discovery in itself too, have a think why you can't explain it?
A year later I went to the northern university again, and during my interviews, the commonalities between the students at the northern university versus Fudan emerged clearly. I simply realised, that the question arose out of my own presuppositions. Previously I had supposed, that the exit path of every student was chosen after careful thought and considerations. I formerly thought that this supposition was very natural, something this big, how could anyone not put a lot of thought behind it, right? But the sincere narrations of a great many of my fellow students made me see that, indeed there was considerably many people who didn't realise they had to make a choice, and plan their university life according to these choices.
Building on this foundation, I split the way in which university students organised university life into two categories: the "goal-oriented" type and the "intuition-reliant" type. The former mostly came from families with strong backgrounds, understood the rules of the university maze, clear about their professional goals, and acted precisely and explicitly. But the latter stumbled blindly into a state where they had no goals, mostly relying on their intuition and old habits to organise their university life. Often, the former would be able to bring about a more outstanding exit path for themselves.
When talking with the goal-oriented-type schoolmates, I could often feel their confidence and their initiative in searching for their professional direction. For example Jingwei who took "being interested" as an important standard, during his undergraduate studies created many startups, and eventually chose finance as his future industry. In order to enter that industry, he switched subjects taking the exam to become a finance-related research student, and after graduation he obtained quite a lot of ideal job offers. Ultimately Jingwei chose to become a trader at world-class investment bank, workplace in Hong Kong, starting salary 500k dollars [65k USD]. He was very satisfied with this: "this job means I can use my money to vote on the things that are happening in the world".
In the process of chasing, goals themselves can also change. There was a junior schoolmate that came with me together as exchange students to Hong Kong who studied journalism, who originally felt very idealistic about it. In those years the news media suffered a lot of attacks, and he told me, "we can't eat ideals like food, these days I'm a bit ashamed to tell others I do journalism". He decided to switch to finance, and started to spend a lot of effort searching for all sorts of finance work experience, "I need to wash clean my resume". Due to switching subjects, his search for work was not very smooth. During his job hunt when I saw him, his face looked completely exhausted, but still firmly belived in his own choice: "since I will be a grunt worker no matter what, why not look for a bone with more meat on it?"
Being goal-oriented did not necessarily lead to a more real, more rewarding exit path, and there were some people that went in the opposite direction. At the northern university I saw a schoolmate from Shaanxi, his choice filled me with shock. From the popular economics course he went against the flow to transfer to the unpopular sociology, in order to "devote his effort into improving society". Later on he returned to Shaanxi to become a Selected Transfer Graduate [7], and would often watch over society's current events, and fairness and justice [topics], on his Friends' Circle [WeChat Moments].
In contrast to the goal-oriented type is the intuition-reliant type, like how I was during my undergraduate. Being limited by their insufficient cultural assets, they could not become aware that they had to plan for their exit path as early as possible, or would spend their days in a bewildered manner, or would continue with their habits as a good student back in high school, paying attention only to their grades. For many people, it was only as they approached graduation, that they would hurriedly grab whatever opportunity they could get. The whole time, Yuhai could not decide what they wanted to do, and in the second half of third year university chose a path conforming to the mainstream - PhD with a recommendation to be exempted from entry exam requirements. Even though he already had a seemingly bright exit path, Yuhai still regretted that he didn't consider his own future sooner.
Seeing that many schoolmates were the same as me, who actually did not know where their own exit path was coming from, my many dilemmas reached a level of sympathy. I realised that these sorts of dilemmas were not individuals' dilemmas, that they were a structural phenomenon. I was also greatly reassured, and understood that my loss of direction during my undergraduate studies was not entirely my own fault.
Hearing a great many stories, I slowly understood, why sometimes education seems to have very little power to change one's destiny. Society itself has an inertial tendency to "reproduce oneself", that is to say operates in a way that stabilises society, always facing the direction of consolidating and recreating the currently-existing order. In the reproductive process, resources will naturally flow towards those places that are already wealthy and full of abundance. Recognising this, you will no longer be so /naive/ as to think that "studying ought to change your destiny or otherwise society would be unfair". But in fact this society is indeed not fair.
As schoolmates from weak backgrounds painstakingly figured out the rules of university and society, meanwhile their schoolmates of the same age from strong backgrounds already had obtained this information from their parents or sources with more information. Amongst them, some people even had older relatives that participated in creating those rules. The former [from weak backgrounds] could only observe and obey the rules, and when they could not get a good result would blame themselves for not being strong enough, whereas the latter would have the background confidence to question or ignore the rules. Jingwei in the third year of senior high had participated in Fudan university's independently-recruited students program, and his grades were not actually ideal, since he wasn't able to accurately answer the questions in the literature and history subjects that required a lot of memorisation. "I absolutely won't remember what happened in what year, there's no significance in that whatsoever. [8] Knowing what happened, why it should have happened, is what's the most important."
The two summer holidays after I started my PhD, I was at Fudan again launching two rounds of interviews directed at rural students and specially-targeted poor students, arousing even more intense compassion. A girl from fourth year university told me, that her grandma told her from an early age to study well, to have good future prospects. But just before entering Fudan, she had not even had any exposure to computers, and truly didn't know what "future prospects" really referred to, what specific sorts of future prospects.
Seeing that girl cry, I decided to myself, that my book must be written for the sake of those students that like me had experienced a stage of being lost with no way out. From my stories, I dug out a great many examples of intuition-reliant type schoolmates who had obtained a relatively satisfactory exit path in the end, to tell similar students, that likewise they have a possibility to have a good life.
For example, there was a girl that was born in the countryside, who after entering Fudan adapted relatively quickly, worked very hard as well, got high academic grades, and even got an opportunity to be a foreign exchange student and went to Finland. After widening her perspective, she decided to travel all around the world afterwards, experiencing even more landscapes she had not known before. After finishing her undergraduate studies, she went to Hong Kong to be a research student. From her viewpoint, this stage of her academic experiences increased her "tokens" for finding work as well as her soft skills for conducting herself in society. After returning, she entered a famous professional enterprise just as she had wanted.
Equally important is, when measured from an external point of view (for example, career acquisition), the intuition-reliant ones, because the effort they put in lacks a focused direction, very likely will appear not as good as the goal-oriented ones. However if we measure from multiple angles examining their intrinsic individual development, being inside the university environment of developing in all directions and exploring independently, in fact could allow the intuition-reliant ones to obtain advancement through seeking their inner selves. From being lost, to searching, and then to finding a path that attracts me, my own experiences are in fact a small note on that topic.
In the book, I also analysed the rules of the university maze, hoping to provide a reference for fellow students to "pass the level" smoothly. Society is indeed unfair, but I want to try my hardest to do whatever little things I can, for those that have experienced ridicule, for those test-loving-nerds-from-small-villages sorts of students. Otherwise, I will have let down those schoolmates who poured out their heart and soul, and their experiences, so openly to me.
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Just after entering Fudan, Zheng Yajun wearing the college uniform of Zhide College.
In the period when I had just started being a research student, I had a hard-to-forget experience of having my ego shattered. The reason was not like the sort of maladaptation I had as an undergraduate, in fact just the opposite, that I had suddenly become an outstanding student.
I had written my undergraduate thesis based on the data I had sorted through together with Professor Xiong Qingnian, about the relationship between the grades and the family environments of post-1990s students at famous schools, and completely unexpectedly got the Outstanding Thesis award at the China Sociology Annual Conference. This is a national conference, accepted award candidates here are all very good articles, so as an undergraduate who was able to get an award, I was extremely flattered and amazed. After I entered the Research Institute for Higher Education [RIHE] as a researcher, Professor Xiong Qingnian was my supervisor, he gave me a lot of recognition, and in addition many research student classmates had entered Fudan by examination from external schools, so compared to them, of course I was more familiar with Fudan, and so immediately had some sort of advantage, and become one of the developed ones.
But I had not actually been blessed with this type of change at all, and on the contrary I fell into a profound shock. In the past I had always blamed myself for not being outstanding enough, whereas now it was clear nothing had changed with me, yet after changing location I'd now become "outstanding", was this really a true transformation into being outstanding? Actually no, it was only the evaluation environment and standard that had changed. I suddenly discovered, that the idea of being so-called "outstanding" that I myself had chased in the previous few years, was absurd and ridiculous. Since "outstanding" did not exist as an objective concept, but rather hinged upon a particular evaluational system, then did I really have to consume my entire life for the sake of being evaluated?
My perplexity continued to the point of asking: who I am really, what do I really want to do, if my goal was no longer to catch up to other outstanding students, then what is my goal? What is its meaning?
During that time I seemed like I was entirely lost, whenever I ran into someone I would debate with them, what you think is the meaning of what you're doing right now? I even went and asked this of Professor Xiong Qingnian. After a few days, Professor Xiong sent me a mail, attaching his working career's entire list of published academic papers. In the mail he said, these papers, looking at them now most of them are "garbage".
Professor Xiong's personality was extraordinarily humble, and his words of course carried a large dose of modesty. However I could still feel, that he perhaps indeed thought, from a long-term perspective, that many of his own papers possibly were not very important.
The professor's words had another impact on me. In the past when I was accustomed to the evaluation system of the external world, I thought that going into academia was pretty respectable and meaningful. But as I started to search inwardly within myself, Professor Xiong let me know that working in academia could potentially also become uninteresting. It wasn't the case that walking the path of academia, would automatically bring meaning.
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Zheng Yajun and Professor Xiong's joint photo in 2017 at the site of her master's thesis defence.
I added this topic to my interviews. From then on I discovered, this seemed to be a common perplexity within this rough age cohort of schoolmates. Including those elite students that had formerly given me a distant feeling, they and I were the same, also having to face the question of creating meaning for themselves.
I realised, that being able to freely explore my own answers, as well as being able to hear others' answers through my research, this was an extraordinarily special privilege and fortuitous circumstance. Professor Xiong originally suggested that I expand my undergraduate thesis a bit, turning it into a master's thesis, this way I could graduate in only two years, and snatch back the time I had lost from my late graduation [from undergraduate]. But I insisted on researching the question of [students'] exit paths, I said, regardless of anything else, at least I want to solve my own perplexity. Not only did I want to reach clarity on where everyone's exit paths came from, but I also wanted to know how they found meaning from their exit paths.
Fudan's Changcheng grew up in the remote countryside of Gansu province, and hadn't left the province before Gaokao. After coming to Fudan, he realised that compared with his schoolmates with advantageous background conditions, his own deficiencies "were not something that could be compensated for merely by working hard". He fell into a depression that stretched for a whole year, didn't attend courses, and refused social contact. Changcheng described his state to me during that period of time: lying on his bed on the third floor looking out the window, "the sunlight from outside was so good, but I didn't want to go out, I felt I was entirely isolated from the outside."
What helped Changcheng find meaning was one of the subjects he had studied, social work. What social work is mostly concerned with is weaker groups, Changsheng learnt how to help these groups, and also developed an empathetic and compassionate feeling towards them, and bit by bit came out of his depression. Later on he became a Selected Transfer Graduate [7].
Another that left a deep impression on me was Zitong, who came from the Yunnan countryside to pass exams to enter Fudan's Chinese language department. After going through the experiences of cautiously collecting grade points, participating in Supportive Education [9] programs, and being an exchange student in Taiwan, he started to re-examine himself anew: "all day I thought, what is really the meaning of work?"
In the third year of university, Zitong started working on a paleography [ancient documents] project with Professor Sui. He gradually discovered, that he was most interested in reading and thinking, and decided that being a scholar would be his aspiration. "Proposing inspiring insights or concepts, that can help people today understand their own situation, this is what I want to do the most." He thought that, if one has been able to go to such a good university, and they were satisfied with only living a simple life with simple pleasures, then "I think this would be unconscionable". "Only seeking to improve oneself without thought for others, without seeking The Way [for living life, i.e. Dao], that has no value." I asked him what his version of The Way was, he replied, "It's Zhang Zai's Four Sentences in Horizontal Form" [10].
Some schoolmates made me see that, sometimes, meaning comes from the construction after one's choices. A while earlier, I had gone to Dujiangyan [Irrigation Project] to travel, and ran into a junior schoolmate from Fudan that I had previously interviewed. After she graduated she had gone to Dujiangyan as a Selected Transfer Graduate [7], and was now working at the local Government Research Office, being specially responsible for writing research materials. She told me, that perhaps 80% of the stuff she wrote could not be implemented, but thinking about it even if only 20% of it could be implemented, it would still be incredibly positive with nothing more to ask for. She had a profound feeling of connection towards her home village, and was willing to serve her locality.
I started to feel that my own research did have value, not needing others' recognition or even to be published, but rather it had an innate value within itself. It nourished my life, expanded the boundaries of my knowledge, and also let me understand others better. It discovered that there can be many different ways to live life, as well as many different ways of viewing life. In particular, although there is no way to change parameters like your family background, which often makes people feel powerless and want to lie flat, however as you walk through the midst of the stories of each real living individual, you will discover that reality is much more wonderful than theory. How people view their unchangable factors, how they create meaning, all have many possibilities. You will also realise that indeed it is necessary to have a narrative for yourself, rather than simply to lie flat and be done with it. Without exaggeration, in the process of doing my research, my entire being changed completely.
During the editing of my book, I specially added an extra chapter onto the foundation of my master's thesis, discussing value beliefs. I thought, if I only mentioned the skills that one needs to have for attending university, that would only guide everyone to learn routines in a superficial way, this doesn't have much meaning - rearrange the words in another way, and it becomes nothing more than another "success studies" [self-help] book. Rather, what I thought was more important, was obtaining long-term development, and perhaps having to think about what sort of person you really wanted to become, what you really wanted to do, what sort of things are meaningful to you. These questions must not be avoided.
After the book was published, I sent a copy to every schoolmate that had accepted my interviewing. Beyond my expectations, they were all very happy, and some people even revealed on their Friends' Circles [WeChat Moments] "Actually I'm the XX in that book". Two weeks previously, I had been on a podcast sharing some findings from my own research processes, and had publicised my WeChat account info in order to receive feedback and suggestions more conveniently. I didn't think that so many people would actually add me, the overwhelming majority being university students. Some of them wrote me very long letters, expressing their resonance, telling me what sorts of effects this research had on them; some were just a couple of sentences, plainly expressing congratulations and support; and yet others said nothing, probably only wanting to lurk in my Friends' Circle as a silent supporter.
In the sixth year of my PhD, I am continuing to do research on how students from poor families break through cultural obstacles, and am about to defend my dissertation. My mother who has used all her strength to raise me out of a small and lowly place, will now be able to see the final results of my studies. Having recently published my book, many uncles and aunties now know about this, and forward media reports about me in their Friends' Circles [WeChat Moments]. My mum presses "like" on each one, replies "thank you for your long-term continuing encouragement and support", and adds two fist-clasp [Chinese greeting] emojis.
Puppy doll, well done, she congratulates me. Image
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Zheng Yajun and her mother at the site of her graduation.
Chinese terminology that requires longer English explanation to understand fully:
| [1] | (1, 2) In China, regions outside of the major cities often include both urban and rural subregions, but the overall region is still named after the largest city in that region. So your formal full address may appear to include a city name, even if it's actually in the remotest poorest rural countryside, way outside the actual city urban limits. |
| [2] | (1, 2, 3, 4) 做题家 we translated succinctly but imperfectly as "test-loving-nerd" in the main translation text. The full meaning is someone who has risen from a poor rural background by taking exams and jumping through academic hoops that the system has provided, but who often has weak social skills, street smarts, and/or other "real-life" soft skills. It combines the negative connotations of the stereotypical western "nerd" and "tool", but also with some positive connotations of having achieved something for themselves from a weak position. |
| [3] | This sort of temporary "demotion" is practised in some workplaces in China, in particular some state or public institutions. It's influenced by communist theory and thinking, so that you have some shared real-world experiences with the masses from a lower class than you, to help you empathise with them. |
| [4] | Chinese idiom; in this case "I mustn't die" because I have too many responsibilities i.e. a child. Similar to "stuck between a rock and a hard place" but with greater urgency. |
| [5] | In China, cities with several schools often name them using numbers. Number 1 is the earliest and typically also best one. |
| [6] | Chinese education jargon. Didn't have time to research what this means exactly, but presumably: could have been bumped up a tier due to her good grades during normal school coursework outside of the Gaokao exam, allowing her to attend a slightly better tier of universities, albeit still not the top tier due to her very bad Gaokao result. |
| [7] | (1, 2, 3) Graduates with high achievements selected by their provincial Communist Party committee transferred to do official work on-site at the grassroots level, and also to be reserve candidates for future party or government leadership or other official positions. |
| [8] | Editor comment: this is too arrogant actually. At the very least it's important to get the relative order of events correct, even if you forget exactly what absolute year something happened in. Understanding "why" is impossible without getting the relative order correct. Remembering the absolute year helps with remembering the relative order. |
| [9] | Collective name for various programs run by the PRC government to help underdeveloped poor areas. |
| [10] | Zhang Zai (1020-1077 A.D.) Song Dynasty Philosopher, Educator, Founder of Neo Confucianism. His Four Sentences in Horizontal Form translate to: Set your heart for heaven and earth, set your destiny for the people, continue learning from the sages, and open up peace for all eternity. |
33岁的郑雅君的故事可以写成两个版本。一个版本是：本科、研究生就读于复旦大学，本科毕业论文获中国社会学年会优秀论文奖，硕士论文获首届全国教育实证研究论坛优秀学位论文奖。获得「复旦大学优秀毕业生」、「上海市优秀毕业生」称号，目前在香港大学攻读博士学位。标准的精英。
另一个版本是：她生长在地处偏远的甘肃省张掖市，少年丧父，由母亲独力抚养。中学时的郑雅君把全部时间都用来学习，却因过于紧张，导致第一次高考失利，只能复读。第二年考入复旦后，她听不懂老师讲课，甚至听不懂出身大城市的同学聊天。大四时，她发现自己找不到毕业出路，只好申请延毕一年。
某种意义上，是后一个版本里的郑雅君造就了前一个。在大学受挫后，她开始思考：大学生的出路是怎么形成的？为什么弱势背景出身的学生，到精英大学后常常碰到障碍，难以融入？同样是金榜题名，为什么出路千差万别？
郑雅君访谈了两所精英大学的62名同学。他们来自不同的背景，拥有不一样的大学生活体验和职业方向。郑雅君发现，精英大学是一所精心布置的「迷宫」，学生需要尽早决定自己将要去哪个出口，并拥有一套认识和安排大学生活的技巧——大到职业规划，小到选课、参加各类活动、刷实习履历，才有可能顺利「通关」，在毕业时获得尽可能理想的出路。
在此过程中，那些优势背景出身的学子通常会因为对这套规则的熟谙而占得先机，弱势背景的学生则往往会经历茫然无从的阶段，有的甚至在临毕业时才匆忙抓住某个够得着的机会。上大学的方式，制造了毕业出路的阶层差异。
郑雅君以此为课题写成了硕士论文，进而扩展成了一本书《金榜题名之后——大学生出路分化之谜》。在书中，她根据访谈案例进行了剖析，呈现出路分化的原因和过程。作为一个不算优势背景出身的学子，她更多地共情和自己相似的同学。她认为，一时的所谓「落后」并不太重要，更重要的是找到自己真正的意义和价值感所在，并努力践行。
以下根据郑雅君的讲述和《金榜题名之后》中相关内容整理而成——
文｜罗兰
编辑｜楚明
图｜（除特殊标注外）受访者提供
2018年，我正在香港大学上博士一年级。八月的一晚，我和一位师兄站在校园的路边上，聊着我新一轮田野调查的感受。那时我刚结束了对复旦大学选调生的访谈，自觉有不少新发现。
那时，关于大学生出路的问题，我已经研究了近5年。从复旦到港大，我一直在追索：大学生的出身背景和他们在一流大学接受的精英教育，怎样对个人的生涯选择共同产生影响，造成他们毕业出路的分化？
我在复旦上本科时，母校本科生的去向大约是三成出国留学，三成保研，三成就业。看上去光鲜的整体数据，抹不平个体的差异：有人手握多个优质offer，有人临近毕业才匆忙找了个工作，还有人不确定该干什么，依照好学生的惯性选择了直研甚至直博，将未来五六年漫长的时光交付给或许并不真心喜爱的学术研究……而我自己大四时甚至找不到出路，只好申请延期毕业一年。上的是同一所大学，为什么出路千差万别？
恰好在那时，我偶然发现了社会学的视角和解释能力。虽然我是社会学专业的，其实之前一直并不真正理解社会学，也不知道它能用来做什么，只是按部就班跟着老师，把社会学作为纯粹的「知识」来学习。
大四那年，我选修了一门通识课，《中草药概论》。原本以为会讲开方抓药之类的，没想到上课的是一位研究生物化学的老师，完全用现代科学的方法来讲中草药。
例如某种中草药里起作用的是什么化学成分。我突然受到启发，想到同一个课题，可以用不同的视角去看待。再回过头看社会学，我发现它提供了一种结构性的视角，去看个体的命运被什么更宏大的因素影响。就这样，临近毕业时，我终于意识到了社会学在做什么。
我找到我们系的周怡老师，跟她说想用文化社会学的方法去研究大学生。虽然我那时候在我们班根本不算出挑的，但周老师还是给了我很多支持，她建议我继续读书深造，「任何题目其实都能做出东西来，只要找到好的切入口」。延毕那年，我静下心来读了不少相关的书。我想，既然已经决定做学术了，就慢慢来，慢慢来比较快。
本科毕业，我进入复旦高等教育研究所读研，正式开启了研究。为了增强自己的社会学功底，我在高教所读研的时候还「篡改」培养方案，主动选修了不少社会学系的研究生专业课，继续和我社会学系直研的很多同学厮混在一起。我们有一个五六个人的小圈子，都对教育社会学感兴趣，一起去上李煜老师新开的「教育与社会」，吃饭也是聊研究相关的东西，有时候也拉着李老师一起吃，俨然是一个迷你版的学术共同体，我研究能力上的很多长进都来自于这个共同体。
我先在复旦找了18名同学做访谈，之后又到北方一所著名大学访谈了20位同学。了解他们的家境：家庭的经济地位、地域、父母是否接受过高等教育，自己在校的感受和投入，以及未来的职业方向。
一开始和那些出身背景好、精英气质浓郁的同学聊时，我心理上有些紧张。我来自西北小县城，在我的印象中，那样的同学都很自信，也更容易对人对事进行评判，甚至挑剔。
事实上也的确如此。像数学院的经纬家在上海，父母都是企业中层，家在上海市区有4套房。他毕业于上海「四大名校」之首的某所著名高中，学校开设了500多门发展课程供学生选修。经纬的高中生涯，和普遍印象中的苦读完全不同。和他聊天时，他经常用来形容自己的一个词是「有趣」，并且毫不讳言地批评数学院的很多同学学业绝对优秀，但「不够有趣」，「最后还是去了四大这种很普通很稳妥的地方」。
相形之下，出生背景较弱势的同学整体显得茫然、保守。冰倩是留守儿童，从湖南乡下考进复旦。家里从没出过大学生，没有人告诉她应该怎么上大学。冰倩觉得上了大学就自由了，懵懂地凭着兴趣上课，刷剧，到大三才发现自己的绩点根本没有保研资格。她也没有任何实习经历，匆忙准备考研也失败了，陷入无路可走的境地。坐在我对面，冰倩眼中流露出失落与懊悔。北方大学的禹海来自山西农村，虽然成绩不错，但他意识到了自己和其他同学的不同。比如同学要出国了，他才意识到还有这样的路径：「自己的经历以及所处环境的限制，导致自己对一些问题的认识会比别人晚个一两年，差别很大。」
随着案例累积越来越多，我越来越清晰地意识到，大学是一个精心布置的「迷宫」，并不存在一条「主路」或标准走法。每一条小路（例如科研、学生会、社团等）都各有乾坤。学生们在各条小路之中穿行探索，一边选择路线，一边在路途上收集着有价值的筹码（成绩、经历、奖项等）。
「迷宫」出口的路主要有三条：出国留学、国内读研和求职，对应着不同的筹码要求和兑换率。比如打算毕业后出国留学，就要着重提升成绩和外语能力，最好还能参与学术研究和境外大学交流项目；如果准备求职，成绩就仅是次重要的要素，实习经历和对行业的了解更加关键。
进入精英大学，学生需要尽早决定自己将要去哪个出口，并拥有一套认识和安排大学生活的技巧——大到职业规划，小到选课、参加各类活动、刷实习履历，才有可能顺利「通关」，在毕业时将手中的筹码兑换成尽可能理想的出路。而这套技巧，更多是由优势的家庭经济文化背景带来的。换句话说，那些出身背景好的同学，比其他人更加「会上大学」。
在北方大学做访谈的那个冬天，告别被访者后，我常常迷失在庞大的校园里。就像我，以及和我相似的同学，因为缺少优越的文化背景加持，在大学四年里，难以找到一条合适的路。
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图源视觉中国
大四上半学期，我到香港中文大学做交换生。宿舍区在半山，正对着吐露港，一眼望出去，大海茫茫无际。我感觉自己的人生也是那样，看不到出路。
这是三年茫然无措的大学生涯带来的结果。进大学第一年，我特别想不通一件事。从小到大，我已经够努力了，没有浪费任何一天，为什么和其他同学相比，我看上去那么差？
怎么差呢，甚至连别人说话都听不懂。同宿舍3个室友，一个上海的，一个昆明的，一个沈阳的，我是唯一一个来自省会城市以下的。她们很友好，但我发现自己听不懂她们聊天。她们说托福，我一脸懵，那是什么？
一入学有个英语测试，根据成绩分到不同层级的班里上英语课。室友们都进了最高级的班，我进的是倒数第二层级的班，据说哪怕不参加测试，也能分到那里。更挫败的是，连这个层级的课我都听不懂。我高考英语136分，不算是个太低的分数，但一直是按应试去学的，我当时的实际英语水平不足以造出一个日常生活中能用的句子。
选课也让我摸不着头脑。课程不该是学校安排好的吗，怎么还要自己选？室友们也不太明白怎么选，不过她们会找学长学姐们请教，带回来一些经验。比如尽可能把通选课安排在大一修完，其他课程也尽量往前赶，为高年级出去实习争取时间。我就照猫画虎地学着大家的方法选。我还得去学校的机房，因为我当时并没有自己的笔记本电脑，因为在我老家「据说」这不是必需品。
到了专业课上，迎头又是一击。大一的专业必修课有徐珂老师讲的《社会学概论》，徐珂老师课讲得好是有名的，因为这门课是很多社科专业的基础课，别的学院的同学也对这门课赞誉有加。新闻系都有很多学生修他的课。他上课经常用很多电影来举例，像《玫瑰的名字》《巴别塔》《楚门的世界》《肖申克的救赎》，来帮助学生理解当时对我们而言还很陌生的社会学理论。但我从来没听说过这些电影，更别说理解背后的理论了。
后来和徐珂老师熟悉了，我告诉他，那时一到他的课堂上我就睡觉，因为听不懂。一次迷迷糊糊醒来，只见徐珂老师两手在空中托举，说「社会就这样浮现出来了」。我心里嘀咕这是啥啊，社会咋还能浮现出来？
还有一次，老师表扬一位同学的课程作业。我到现在还记得那篇作业叫《金色拱门之下》，讲社会的麦当劳化。理解那套文化符码的人一看标题就明白是说社会像麦当劳一样，正在变得快速、流程化。但我不懂，只觉得同学好聪明好厉害，我只知道麦当劳是吃的，他们怎么还能抽象出一套东西来？
复旦的生源很多来自江浙沪比较发达的地区，那些年自主招生又占了相当比例。你知道，自主招生的要求更倾向于筛选出那些家庭文化背景好、视野开阔、很早就有独立思考能力的学生。而我中学时除了三毛，基本没看过别的课外书。三毛还是在刷N遍题后，挤出空偷摸看的。对人文社科知识，我的了解可以说是零。我妈是学农林的，她也不懂那些，不可能给我什么启蒙。慢慢地，我意识到自己和很多同学的文化底色不同。他们在用那套彼此洞悉的语言交流，我身处他们之中，就像个山顶洞人。
就连参加社团，背后也是文化资本在起作用。我加入过校园媒体，但不会找选题，判断不出什么值得做报道，写出来的稿子也不符合要求，不久就退出了。还曾经想进学生会学术部，觉得听上去挺高端严肃的。面试时学长问我，假如我们举办一场活动，嘉宾迟到了，你作为组织者需要唱首歌维持气氛，你会唱什么歌？你知道我唱的什么吗？我唱：小鸟在前面带路，风儿吹向我们。
结果当然被刷掉了。后来想想，学长的问题其实也是在对「文化密码」，看我和他们的要求是否匹配。如果我唱一首年轻人都喜欢的流行歌，或是更小众、显得更有品味的歌，肯定就能通过。但高中三年我是不允许自己听歌的。因为一听歌旋律就会刻在脑子里反复播放，会影响我学习。打车去考场考试，我都会特意请司机不要放音乐。当下流行什么歌，我根本不知道。
后来我在访谈中了解到，很多来自弱势背景的同学都经历过和我类似的冲击。因为不具备精英大学中默认掌握的文化知识和文化技能，我们撞上了「文化障碍」。
整个大学四年，我都在追赶周围的同学，试图至少看上去和他们相似。别的不说，成绩不能落下。我找教材，画重点，背诵，应对考试。需要写论文或读书笔记的，就慢慢摸索老师喜欢什么样的文章套路，照着去写。毕竟也不笨，整天花心思经营这些，成绩还过得去。但其实骨子里没变，还是做题家那套思路和方法。交际圈也限于和自己背景相似的几个同学。后来我读到哈佛大学教师安东尼·亚伯拉罕·杰克的《寒门子弟上大学》，书中指出「入学并不代表融入」，那时的我，并没有融入大学的主流文化背景和生活。
到了大四，我得到机会去香港做交换生。这其实也是一个随大流的举动，因为同学们都去境外大学交换，大部分是大二大三去，我因为英语不行，一直拖着不愿考语言，拖到了大四。当时还是很高兴的，虽然晚了点，毕竟看上去和同学们一样了。
体验了一段时间新鲜感，寻找毕业出路的压力来了。我才发现，在主流的几条路径上，自己几乎都没有做好准备。我在一个做社区建设的公益机构当了很久志愿者，工作能力很受肯定，就想着要么去那里工作。结果机构里带我的老师跟我说，国内的社工发展不算理想，以你的学校背景，没必要做这样的工作，拒绝了我。如果想保研，则要从10月份开始准备一系列手续，而我人在香港，在复旦处于休学状态，没办法申请。至于出国留学，也没有提前筹划。
那几个月我特别焦虑，每晚要到凌晨三四点才能入睡，白天又醒不来，大把大把地掉头发。一次起晚了，想起还有广东话课的口语考试，急匆匆赶到考点，考试已经结束，教室里空无一人。我站了一会儿，怅怅地离开了。
错过这个考试对我的成绩没什么实质性的影响，但带来了很大的心理冲击。我觉得自己的状态已经糟糕到连正常生活都维持不了的地步。到了年底，出路仍然没有着落，我终于决定，延期毕业一年。
不能按期毕业，感到挫败是必然的。好在那时，社会学的养分已经能够给我提供一些帮助。我想，陷入这种困境不全怪我，而相当程度上在于我生长在西北小县城，起点比别人低，来到名校，我需要更多时间去适应。当时我就是这么告诉自己的。
我至今都感谢复旦，在我无路可走时给了我一个缓冲期。当时我已经修完所有课程，没有所谓正当理由要求延毕。但学校很快批准了我的延毕申请。
从香港回到复旦，好舍友在宿舍区门口等我，帮我拿大包小包的行李。在被关爱的氛围中，我舒缓了下来。延长的一年，也让我终于能有个空隙缓口气，寻找方向。
从那时起，我开始想要研究大学生的出路。大家不是都说，上了好大学，接受了好的教育，就会有光明的出路吗？为什么我4年下来一个出路都没找到？到底卡在了哪里？教育和社会分层、社会流动到底有什么关系？我迫切地想要弄清这些问题。
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在校园里做访谈的郑雅君
我自己算是依靠教育实现了向好的流动。中学时，我一直是小镇做题家，臻于化境的那种。
小时候，确切地说五年级前，我过的就是普通小孩的生活，挺无忧无虑的。我家在甘肃张掖市临泽县，我爸在发改委工作，妈妈在林业系统。他们是上世纪80年代的大学生，靠上大学跳了龙门，从农村老家走了出来。
那时我爸爸工作上挺顺利的，做到了发改委主任，我妈觉得，一家有一个人干事业就够了，她应该把重心放在家庭和孩子上。单位要她下基层锻炼，方便将来提拔，她不肯去，宁可不提拔，就是为了不离开家。
我上五年级那年，我爸出了车祸。好好地出门，人就那么没了。一夜之间，我妈的整个行动逻辑都变了。她觉得她没了依靠，我也没了依靠，只能靠自己了。从那时起，我妈生活里最重要的主题只有一个，就是动用所有她够得上的资源和力量，去支持我的学业。
她把我转到相邻的一个县城上初中，寄住在亲戚家。因为临泽县太小了，大家都知道我们家的事，当时我在学校当班长，有时要管理调皮的同学，有人就会用你没有爸爸这样的话来嘲笑我。我妈怕我受影响，给我转了学。生活一下发生了天翻地覆的变化，我从一个什么都不用忧虑的掌上明珠，突然就背井离乡，没有依靠似的。
其实那时我并不理解死亡是什么，爸爸不在了对我会有什么影响。我爸在的时候也不管我，他只负责给我买好吃好玩的，日常照顾我的事是我妈在做。最直接影响我的是我妈的焦虑感。我才11岁，她就老念叨，你将来考不上大学怎么办，考不上大学怎么办。
有时我妈半夜睡不着，会一个人自言自语，好像在对我爸说话，抱怨说你一了百了，我怎么办，现在求生不得求死不能。我听到后会有负罪感，觉得要是没有我的话，我妈就可以跟着我爸去了。也想不通，自己怎么就从一个宝贝变成了累赘呢？
我那时候经常做梦，梦见我妈可能哪天自杀了，或者说精神分裂，没办法照顾我了。我就老在盘算，如果真发生那样的事，我们家房子值多少钱，能不能卖，应该找哪个亲戚求助。后来很多年里回顾自己的生命，我才发现我的很多恐惧、恐慌，其实都来源于那时。
到我初中毕业，我妈觉得张掖市区的高中更好，想尽办法把自己从临泽县调动到了张掖市。你知道想从县城调到市区特别难，但她就是做到了，为了让我能在张掖市上高中。
高二读了文科后，我真的是努力到了极限的程度。因为高一时不太适应，数学学不好，英语也一般，整体成绩比较差。我妈找了各种人来给我做思想工作，像我爸有个同学是当地赫赫有名的民乐一中的校长，我妈就把我领到他家里去受训，听他说以你现在的成绩根本考不上大学，你不可以这样，看看你妈妈对你付出了多少，你没有选择，必须要好好学习。
我们上学本来就早，7:30或者7:00就要早读，我为了能多学一会儿，会再早起半个小时，晚上学到一两点才睡。学校规定每天要跑操，我要么溜号，要么跑操时也带着小纸条，边跑边抓紧背几个单词。真的是所有时间都用来学习。渐渐地成绩赶了上来，在年级位居前列。
那时我肯定是那种非常令人讨厌的好学生。比如考试的时候，我们按成绩排考场，我永远在第一考场的头几个位置，周围都是成绩接近的同学。答卷的过程中，我会故意做出轻松的姿态，翻卷子翻得很快，表示我已经做到第二面了，你们还没有翻面，给周围同学施加心理压力。现在反思，一个人想要在竞争中获胜的想法太过强烈的时候，真的会催生出一种人性的「恶」。
但其实私下里，我根本没有那么气定神闲。每次考试前我都会压力爆棚，情绪崩溃到哭，担心万一没有考到前面的名次怎么办。有时我妈看见了，会跟我一起哭。高考对你来说是唯一的机会，你觉得这辈子的前程都压在上面，命悬一线。
第一次高考，我在这样巨大的焦虑下考砸了。考试时紧张到什么程度呢，连勾股定理都想不起来，结果比我平时的成绩差了七八十分。下了数学考场，我就知道完了，要复读了。
那年我的成绩可以上个一本，但我没报志愿。我又不是考不上好大学对吧？要是去个一般的大学，觉得对不起自己的付出，还有我妈的努力。她每天在家把饭做好，给我送到教室，我吃完屁股都不用挪就可以继续学习。从我家走到学校也就15分钟，但她想帮我把这点时间都省出来。
复读那一年，我延续着高三的学习强度。我想，高考发挥失常，说明我对知识的掌握还是不够扎实，那就再一遍遍压实它。做题到后来，我一看题就知道出题的意图，它的考点，容易犯的错，做完就知道自己能拿多少分。焦虑还在，但焦虑已经大不过我的实力了。
第二次高考，考完数学后我想起算一道题时公式可能带错了。那道题是4分，我跟我妈说，要是那道题没错，我就是146分，如果错了就是142。最后果然是142。所以说，那时我已经是个臻于化境的做题家了（笑）。
最终我的成绩是全省第40名，进了复旦社会学系。当时我妈带我去兰州见复旦的招生老师，对方说以我的分数，进复旦只有法学和社会学两个大类可选。我不喜欢争讼，不想学法学，而且高中时看一些新闻调查节目，觉得社会调查挺有意思。虽然不知道社会学是干什么的，但感觉应该和那相关。我觉得如果能当一个新闻记者，去做些为社会争取公平正义的事，挺不错的，就选了社会学。后来做了访谈我发现，很多同学进大学时都是这么稀里糊涂报专业的。
在复旦门口和送我的妈妈告别，我对她说：妈妈你放心，我会好好学习的。我朦胧地知道大学和高中不一样，但并不清楚怎么不一样。跟我妈那样说的时候，我想的大致还是继续拿出做题家的努力和韧劲，在大学里拿好成绩。
后来大学上得不算顺利，在香港交换时那么焦虑，我从没告诉过我妈。延毕那个暑假我没回家，在学校跟着高等教育研究所的熊庆年老师整理数据，其实也有点不愿回去面对那些关心的问询。不过，那时我已经确定了下一步要做什么，些许挫折感不会再困扰我。同班的同学们毕业时，我还和他们一起开开心心走了红毯。
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在本科大五的毕业红毯上，郑雅君（右二）与妈妈和两个去年已毕业的好朋友一起走。
访谈完复旦的18个同学，我自觉已经找到了家庭背景和职业偏好间的某种联系：出身背景不具备优势的同学往往把更多权重放在了回馈家庭、求取稳定上，更倾向于回家乡做公务员这类工作；出身背景好的则更喜欢选择赚钱多，或是自己感兴趣的职业。
当年年底我到北方大学访谈，原本只是想验证自己的发现，却遭遇了挑战。在北方大学，公认最好的学生很多会去体制内，大家都觉得那样很光荣，赚钱是什么玩意儿，不值一提。我之前建立的框架一下就坍塌了。
回到复旦，我对导师诉苦，导师笑呵呵地说，解释不了也是一种发现，想想为什么解释不了？
一年后我再赴北方大学，在访谈中，北方大学和复旦的同学的共同之处清晰地浮现出来。我才意识到，问题出在我自己的预设上。之前我预设，每个同学的出路都是自己深思熟虑后选择的。我曾认为这个假设很自然，这么大的事，怎么会有人不多方思考对吧？但众多同学的真诚讲述让我看到，的确有相当多的人没有意识到自己需要做选择，并据此来规划大学生活。
在此基础上，我把大学生组织大学生活的模式分为两类：「目标掌控」型和「直觉依赖」型。前者大部分来自优势背景的家庭，了解大学迷宫的规则，职业目标清晰，行动明确。而后者则无意识地陷入无目标状态，主要倚靠直觉和旧有习惯来组织大学生活。通常，前者能为主体带来更优势的出路。
和目标掌控型的同学交流，我时常能感到他们的自信和对职业方向的主动求索。像把「有趣」当作重要标准的经纬，本科期间数次创业，最后选定金融作为未来行业。为了入行，他跨专业考了金融类研究生，毕业后收获了好几个理想的工作邀请。最终经纬选择了做一家全球顶尖投资银行的交易员，工作地在香港，起薪50万元。他对此很满意：「这个工作可以让我用钱对这个世界上发生的事情投票。」
追求的过程中，目标也可能发生变化。有个和我一起去香港交流的学弟学的是新闻，原本满怀新闻理想。那几年新闻媒体遭受了很大的冲击，他跟我说，「理想不能当饭吃，我现在都羞于跟人家说我是搞新闻的。」他决定转向金融，开始费尽力气找各类金融实习，「我要洗白自己的简历」。因为跨行业，他找工作并不很顺利。求职期间我见到他时，他一脸疲惫，但仍坚信自己的选择：「既然都是当『打工狗』，我为什么不找一块肉多的骨头？」
目标掌控不一定都通向更现实、获利更多的出路，也有人走向了相反方向。我在北方大学见到一位陕西同学，他的选择令我充满震撼。他从热门的经济学逆流转到相对冷门的社会学，为的是「致力于社会的改善」。后来他回到陕西做选调生，经常在朋友圈关心社会时事、公平正义。
与目标掌控型相对应的，就是类似本科时的我这样的直觉依赖型。囿于文化资源的不足，意识不到要及早规划未来出路，或是迷茫度日，或是延续中学时的好学生惯性，一心只关注成绩。不少人到临近毕业，才匆忙抓住自己够得着的某个机会。禹海一直不知道自己想做什么，在大三下学期选择了符合主流的路径——推荐免试博士。即便已经有了看上去光鲜的出路，禹海仍在后悔，没有早些思考自己的未来。
看到许多同学和我一样，其实并不知道自己的出路是怎么来的，我的很多困惑得到了共鸣。意识到这样的困惑不是个体的困惑，它是一个结构性的现象。也在很大程度被安慰，明白了本科时的茫然并不全是自己的错。
听了众多故事，我慢慢明白，为什么有时教育看上去对于改变命运很无力。社会本身就有强烈的「再生产自己」的惯性倾向，也就是说一个稳定社会的运转，总是朝着巩固和再造现存秩序的方向去发生。再生产的过程中，资源会自然流向那些本就富裕的地方。认识到这个，你就不会再那么naive地觉得读书理应改变命运，不然就是社会不公平。可这个社会就的确是不公平。
当弱势背景的同学苦苦摸索大学和社会的规则时，优势背景的同龄人早已从父母或更多信息源那里获取了信息。他们中有些人的父辈甚至是参与规则制定的人。前者只能遵从规则，得不到好结果时责怪自己不够优秀，后者则有底气质疑和无视规则。经纬高三时参加过复旦的自主招生，成绩并不理想，因为文史科目需要识记的题他大多答不准确。「我绝对不会记哪一年发生了什么事，没有任何意义。知道发生了什么事，为什么会发生，这才是最重要的。」
上博士后的两个暑假，我又在复旦开展了两轮针对农村学生和贫困专项学生的访谈，激发了更强烈的共情。一个大四女孩告诉我，奶奶从小就跟她说要好好读书，要有出息。但在进入复旦前，她连电脑都没有接触过，实在不知道「有出息」到底是什么样的出息。
看着女孩的眼泪，我暗自决定，我的书要为和我一样经历过迷失无从阶段的学子而写。从故事中，我挖掘出不少直觉依赖型同学最后获得较满意出路的例子，告诉同类学生，自己同样有过上好生活的可能性。
例如有个出生在农村的女孩，进入复旦后适应得较快，也很努力，学业绩点高，还拿到出国交流的机会去了芬兰。视野拓展后，她决心以后要环游世界，体验更多未知的风景。本科毕业，她到香港读了研究生。在她看来，这段履历增加了她求职的筹码和做人的底气。回来后，她如愿进入一家著名企业工作。
同样重要的是，从外显角度（比如职业获得）去测量，「直觉依赖者」因为付出的努力缺乏方向上的集中性，表现很可能不如「目标掌控者」。然而如果从多个衡量内在个人发展的角度测量，在大学里的散漫发展和自由探索，却可能让「直觉依赖者」在内在自我的探寻上取得进步。从迷茫到探寻，再到找到吸引我的路，我自己的经历，就是对此的一个小小注解。
在书里，我还剖析了大学迷宫的规则，希望为同学们顺利通关提供参考。社会的确不公平，但我想尽可能为被嘲讽为小镇做题家的那些学生做点什么。否则，我都对不起将自己的经历与心路历程向我敞开的同学们。
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复旦刚入学，身着「志德书院」书院服的郑雅君
刚上研究生那段时间，我经历了难忘的自我破碎。原因不是像本科时那样不适应，恰恰相反，是由于我突然成了优秀学生。
本科论文我根据和熊庆年老师整理的数据，写90后名校学生成绩和家境的关系，很意外地拿到了中国社会学年会的优秀论文奖。这是全国性的会，入围评奖的都是很好的文章，作为本科生能拿奖，我挺受宠若惊的。进入高等教育研究所读研后，熊庆年老师是我的导师，他挺肯定我，加上好多研究生同学是从外校考来复旦，和他们相比，我对复旦肯定更熟悉，一下有了优势似的，成了出挑的那一个。
但我完全没有享受这种变化，反而陷入了深深的错愕。以前总怪自己不够优秀，现在明明什么都没有改变，换了个地方就成优秀了，难道是真的变优秀了吗？其实没有，只不过是评价环境和标准变了。我突然发现，自己此前很多年追求所谓的优秀有多荒谬。既然优秀不是个客观存在，而是取决于某个评价体系，那么我难道要为了被评价而耗尽自己的一生吗？
困惑接踵而至：我到底是谁，我到底想干什么，如果我的目标不再是赶上其他优秀的同学，那么我的目标是什么？它有什么意义？
那段时间我像着了迷一样，碰到人就和对方讨论，你觉得你现在做的事有什么意义？甚至还去问了熊庆年老师。几天后，熊老师给我发了个邮件，附着他职业生涯中发表的所有学术论文。在邮件里他说：这些论文，现在看来大部分都是「垃圾」。
熊老师的个性非常谦和，他的话一定有谦逊的成分。但我也能感觉到，他可能的确认为，从长远来看，自己的很多论文或许不是很重要。
老师的话给了我又一个冲击。过去习惯外界的评价体系时，我觉得做学术挺体面的。但当我开始向内寻求，熊老师让我知道，做学术也可能变得没有意义。并不是说走了学术这条路，意义就自动来了。
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2017年硕士论文答辩现场郑雅君与熊老师的合影
我在访谈中加入了这个话题。继而发现，这似乎是这个年龄段的同学普遍的困惑。包括那些曾让我觉得有距离感的精英同学，他们和我一样，也要面临意义制造的问题。
我意识到，能够自由地去探索我的答案，还可以通过研究听到别人的答案，这是个非常大的特权和幸运。熊老师曾建议我把本科论文扩展一下，写成硕士论文，这样两年就可以毕业，能把延毕耽搁的时间抢回来。但我坚持要做出路问题的研究，我说不为别的，我就是想解决自己的困惑。我不仅想弄明白大家的出路是怎么来的，还想知道他们是怎么从出路中找到意义的。
复旦的昌盛生长于甘肃偏远农村，高考前没有出过省。到复旦后，他发觉和条件优越的同学比，自己的差距「不是努力就可以赶得上的」。他陷入长达一年的轻度抑郁，不去上课，拒绝社交。昌盛向我描述自己那段时间的状态：躺在三楼的床上看着窗外，「外面阳光很好，但我不愿意出去，我感觉我和外面是隔绝的。」
帮助昌盛寻求到意义的是他所学的社工专业。社工面对的大多是弱势群体，昌盛学习了如何帮助他们，也在情感上产生了共鸣，慢慢从抑郁中走出来。后来他做了选调生。
还有给我深刻印象的梓桐，是从云南农村考入复旦中文系的。经历了兢兢业业刷绩点、参与支教、去台湾交流后，开始重新审视自己：「成天想，工作到底有什么意义呢？」
大三时，梓桐开始跟随老师做一个古典文献学的项目。他渐渐发现，自己对读书和思想最有兴趣，确立了做学术的志向。「提出有启发的洞见或者观念，能够帮助今天的人理解自己的处境，这是我最想做的事。」他认为读了这么好的大学，如果满足于过小确幸的生活，「我觉得你是没良心的。」「只追求独善其身，不求道的话，那没有价值。」我问他所说的道是什么，他回答：是张载的横渠四句。
有些同学让我看到，有时，意义来自选择后的建构。前段时间我去都江堰旅行，见到了访谈过的一位复旦学妹。她毕业后作为选调生去了都江堰，现在在当地机关的政研室工作，专门负责写材料。她告诉我，可能自己写的东西80%落不到实处，但想想只要有20%能落实，也是善莫大焉。她与家乡有深刻的情感连接，愿意去服务当地。
我开始感到自己的研究是有价值的，不需要谁认可或是发表，而是它自身具备内在价值。它滋养了我的生命，扩展了我的认知边界，也让我更理解他人。你发现生活可以有很多种，看待生活的方式也可以有很多种。特别是虽说像家庭背景这样的参数无法改变，常会让人觉得无力，想躺平，但当你走到每一个活生生的人的故事中去的时候，你会发现现实比理论精彩得多。人如何看待自己无法改变的因素，如何创造意义，都有很多可能性。你也会觉得的确需要对自己有所交代，而不是说简单躺平完事。不夸张地说，在做研究的过程中，我整个人都脱胎换骨了。
修改书稿时，我特意在硕士论文的基础上加了一章，讨论价值信念。我觉得，如果仅仅指出上大学需要具备的技巧，导致大家都钻营式地去学套路，这个没有意义，无非是换一种方式卷，搞成了成功学。而我觉得更重要的是，要想获得长远的发展，可能必须得思考自己到底想成为一个什么样的人，到底想干什么，什么事情对自己有意义。这些问题是不能回避的。
书出版后，我给每一位接受过我访谈的同学都寄去了一本。出乎意料，他们都很高兴，有人甚至在朋友圈主动披露「我就是书里那XX」。两周前，我在一档播客节目里分享了自己研究过程中的一些体会，并且公开了微信号方便接受反馈意见。没想到真的有很多人加我，绝大部分都是大学生。他们有的给我写了很长的信，表达自己的共鸣，告诉我这个研究对他产生了什么影响；有的就是一两句话，单纯表达祝福和支持；也有的什么也没说，大概只想躺在我的朋友圈里，当一个安静的支持者。
博士六年，我继续着寒门学子如何突破文化障碍的研究，即将论文答辩。全力将我从小地方托举出来的妈妈，将会看到我学业的最终成果。最近出了书，好多叔叔阿姨知道了，在朋友圈转发媒体对我的报道。我妈挨个点赞，回复「谢谢您长期以来的鼓励和支持」，再加两个抱拳的表情。
狗娃子，棒棒哒，她夸我。Image
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毕业典礼现场的郑雅君和妈妈