Jian Ping's column
An uninspired little "Emperor"
By Jian Ping

    I recently visited Mei, a close friend of mine in California. We reminisced about our shared past and soon
turned our conversation to the generation of little “emperors and empresses” in China — children born
under the one-child policy implemented in 1979. Mei gave out a deep sigh and told me the frustration she
was having with her nephew Ning, her younger brother’s son.
    “He is 21,” Mei said. “He graduated from a language school in China. His mother asked me to get him
here to study and I did, enrolling him in a state university in California. But he didn’t want to study.”
I had heard many stories of spoiled, self-centered children who had been the focus of their parents and
grandparents in China. Their behavior and attitude earned them the crown of “emperor” or “empress.”
But when it came to study, I believed that the standards had not been compromised. Chinese children,
either in China or in the U.S., are known as academic high achievers. They come from a culture in which
education is valued and attending college is considered a prerequisite for success in life. Because of
severe competition, students in China generally study very hard in order to pass the annual national college
entrance examination.
     “Is he facing language barriers or a cultural shock?” I asked.
     “Might be,” Mei said. “But he had attended a number of specialty language schools in China and was
already in a U.S. college for a year,” she continued.
    I knew that special language schools in China provided good foreign language education. When my niece Jia graduated from one of these
schools at age 18, she impressed me with her fluency in both oral and written English.
    It turned out that Ning’s situation was more complicated. He came from a family of protective parents. Riding the wave of the economic
reform in China, his mother became a successful entrepreneur. She had sent Ning to a local private language school. When Ning failed his
courses, his mother transferred him to another one out of town. When that  didn’t work out, she mobilized her network of contacts and
transferred him to yet another one in Beijing.
    Ning managed somehow to receive his high school diploma, but was in no position to pass the college entrance examination. His mother’s
solution was to send him to a U.S. college. Apparently, money was not an issue.
    During the first year of Ning’s study, he failed all of his three courses. Actually, Mei found out, he didn’t attend most of the classes. None of
his professors could recall they even had him in their classes when Mei contacted them. Ning lied all along about doing his homework and
going to classes.
    Mei took it upon herself to guide him. From coaching him, checking with his professors, to eventually knocking regularly on his door, she
did all a caring aunt could do, but to no avail.
    Ning did not want to study and did not want to stay in the U.S.
    “Life in the U.S. is too hard,” Ning said.
    He wanted to return to China, but his mother would not hear any of that.
    “He is my only child,” she begged Mei. “Please help him out.”
    “What could I do if he doesn’t want to do any work?” Mei asked me, exasperated.
    Ning resisted passively. He did not register for school this year until Mei found out. She had to talk to the international student advisor to get
him in after the deadline.
    To help him gain some experience in real life, Mei arranged for Ning to do an internship at a friend’s firm. He quit quickly, complaining he
was not treated well. Mei learned that he did not want to answer the phone and took offense when his boss asked him to make tea.
    He was also upset with Mei that she set him up in a school dorm instead of letting him stay in her home. He expected his aunt to take care of
him — his meals, laundry, and transportation. Concerned, Mei often checked on him. She was appalled to find him often sleeping in the middle
of the day when she stopped by.  
    “I don’t care if I sweep floors as a janitor,” Ning would say. “Let me go home.”
    Ning did go back to China at the end of his first academic year. His mother threatened to cut him off financially when he told her he did not
want to resume his studies. More importantly, perhaps, a girl he dated urged him to finish college first before getting further involved in their
relationship. Reluctantly, Ning returned to California, but his behavior did not change.
    I went with Mei to see Ning during my visit. He opened the door for us and abruptly walked back inside when Mei told him she had come
with a friend.
    “My room is a mess,” he mumbled.
    I looked around his room from the doorway and viewed an unmade twin bed. The room was scattered with shorts, T-shirts, water bottles,
and instant noodle packages on the floor. The lowered window blinds dimmed the room in semi-darkness and the air inside was humid and
suffocating. Mei zigzagged her way in to talk to him. I examined Ning. To my surprise, he was slim, tall, and handsome. His young face looked
healthy and his hairstyle fashionable. If I could ignore the brief one or two syllables he uttered in responses to Mei’s questions, I would say he
appeared very smart.
    “I checked online and found the three classes you intended to take were all full,” Mei said. “Have you registered?”
    “Not yet,” he said.
    “What do you want to do?” Mei asked.
    Ning shrugged his shoulders.
    Mei threw a glance at me and bit her tongue. A moment later, she said she would talk to his friends and gestured to me to leave.  
“He always tells me he doesn’t know how to handle registration,” Mei said when we got to her car. “The campus is only five minutes away. He
won’t go on his own,” she continued. “But I find him capable of going across town to get an electronic gadget.” Mei shook her head.
“The problem is …” Mei paused, as if to select her words. “I think he just wants to ride on his family’s wealth. He is the only child and must feel
entitled to an easy life. I’ll talk to his parents again and suggest they take him back and send him to the military for some good training.”  
I had never before met a young Chinese who was content to live off his parents the rest of his life.
    “Is this a representative of the little ‘emperor and empress’ generation?” I wondered. “What can parents do if their child has no aspiration to
create a life for himself?” “How much are Ning’s parents responsible for sheltering him excessively during his growing up years?” A number of
questions emerged in my mind.
    Seeing Mei’s anguished face, I did not voice any of them. But I agreed with her that some drastic approaches have to be taken to facilitate a
change in Ning.  

   Jian Ping is the author of “Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China” (www.mulberrychild.com) . Also visit her blog at  www.smearedtype.com
for more or her writings.