Jian Ping's column
Different perspectives
     When we started our Asian Classics classes on China at the University of Chicago, the third year of
a four-year program, our instructor Alan walked into the classroom with a portrait of Confucius. We were
to begin with Confucius’ Analects.
“The key element of Confucius’ teaching is ‘li’, ritual,” Alan said. “So I think it’s only appropriate we
observe a few rituals in our class.”
     Alan proposed three. Instead of announcing them to the class, however, Alan handled it with a
democratic approach—he let the class decide with consensus to accept them or modify them. “Number
one,” he said, “we call Confucius Master Kong”. The romanization of the Chinese name Kong Zi didn’t
reflect the proper respect for him. “Kong” is Confucius’ family name, and “Zi”, refers to a sage or
master. A few students and practiced the pronunciation. We agreed not to use the term Confucius in our
class.
     “Number two,” Alan continued, “We start our class with a formal greeting. I’ll say ‘Good morning,
class’ and you’ll stand up and say ’Good morning, teacher.’ There were more than 20 students in our
class, all much older than Alan. We had diverse backgrounds as well—lawyers, professors, business
executives, and scientists. After some back and forth discussion, we agreed to this practice.
It was the third ritual Alan proposed that threw us into dispute, which certainly reflected our different
cultural perspectives.
     Alan taped the portrait of Master Kong on the blackboard and suggested we bow to the master at
the beginning or ending of our class.
     The word “bow” sounded like a bomb dropping into the classroom.
     “Wait a minute,” one of the lawyers in the group immediately raised his voice above all the
murmuring. “I have a problem with that,” he said. “We’ve been brought up questioning and
challenging authorities in this country. We’d never blindly submit to a master or a government,” he
continued, looking at the students in the class. “A bow is to surrender. I don’t feel comfortable doing
that to anyone. Least of all an ancient figure I don’t know much about.”
     “I can bow to knowledge, but not to a person,” another student chided in.
     “I don’t think I can bow either,” another lawyer in the class joined in. “It’s not in our culture to
bow, to be submissive.”
     My friend Hong, my husband Francis and I were the only Chinese in our class. We looked at one
another and were very surprised by our American classmates’ reactions.
     “Bowing in this context is an indication of respect,” Hong said. “It doesn’t mean being
submissive to authority.”
     Francis grew up in a Catholic school in Hong Kong. He said: “At school, we all bowed to our
teacher at the beginning of each class.”
     “We are not talking about bowing at 90 degrees,” I added. “A lowering of the head is just like
tipping your hat.” The discussion got heated. Our American friends wouldn’t budge. Despite Alan’s
explanation that the ritual only bound us for the duration of the class and served to simulate the way
the Master would teach, they objected strongly to bowing. After arguing about it for 20 minutes, Hong
lost her patience.
     “I can’t believe we get hung up on a simple issue like this,” she said. “We have six books to
cover for this quarter. Could we move on, please?”
     In the end, we comprised by agreeing to stand up at the end of the class and bow to the center—
to knowledge and to one another for sharing knowledge, but not to anyone in particular.
     I was amazed by the serious objections my American classmates had for bowing to Master Kong.
I, and I believe, my Chinese friends as well, wouldn’t have blinked an eye. We were talking about an
ancient master of Socrates’ time, a well-respected figure whose teachings have shaped the Chinese
culture over the course of more than two thousand years and influenced other countries such as
Korea, Japan, and Vietnam in the Orient. Kong Zi is a philosopher, a sage and a teacher, not a
dictator.
     Throughout the entire quarter, we practiced these rituals. We slipped from time to time by referring
to the sage as Confucius instead of Master Kong and corrected ourselves. We stood up to greet Alan
as he said “Good morning, class.” Alan placed a portrait of Master Kong on the blackboard at the
beginning of each class, but we never bowed to him. Instead, we dutifully bowed to the center of the
class from our circular seating at the end of each session and said: “Thank you.”
     
     Jian Ping is author of "Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China." For more information, please visit
www.moraquest.com or www.smearedtype.com
Jian Ping
University of Chicago
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