Dropping teacher height policy in China should be no tall order
It’s a good thing my greatgrandmother in the United States never tried to get a job as a schoolteacher in Shaanxi province. She was too short — just 137 centimeters.
Under the rules of the Shaanxi Education Department, which were in effect until recently, a female applicant must be 150 cm tall to be accepted as a teacher. A male must be 155 cm.
Under the policy, it wouldn’t matter that the applicant was an intellectual giant: No genetics, no job.
I often wonder how such policies get made. In my mind, I imagine a meeting room with a large table surrounded by bureaucrats. Someone says, “We need to establish some standards for teachers.” Everyone nods in agreement. “Yes! Yes! What rules should we have?”
A discussion ensues about academic credentials, high ethical standards and the ability to inspire young students. All the while, a secretary is hurriedly writing everything down.
Near the end of the meeting, one of the bureaucrats suggests a terrific idea. He says: “We should not hire any teachers who are short-tempered.”
By now, the secretary is tired and innocently misses that last word. She writes: “We should not hire any teachers who are short.”
After a quick vote to approve all the suggestions, the meeting adjourns and everybody goes to lunch.
Later, an assistant refers to the secretary’s notes when typing the policy. He thinks the height measurements were left out by accident and helpfully puts them back in. “Teachers must be taller than students, or they will lose face,” he mutters as he chooses some numbers he thinks are reasonable.
Because policy papers are boring, the bureaucrats sign off without reading, and the rule goes into effect — for decades.
Far-fetched, you say? Not really. China Daily carried a news report the other day about a recent graduate of Shaanxi Normal University, surnamed Li, who wanted to be a schoolteacher. She was denied her credentials because she is 140 cm tall. She might have been enthusiastic about teaching kids, but she didn’t measure up in the height department.
Thankfully, similar height policies have been dumped in some provinces, and in Shaanxi the public uproar over Li’s story induced officials to break down and grant her credentials. That’s a good thing, but it doesn’t make the initial response by the university any less discouraging. When asked why the university was denying Li over her height, an official said it was “just doing what it has been told to do. … We don’t make the rules.”
To be fair, a height requirement is needed for certain jobs — bus drivers, for example. Their feet have to reach the pedals. But what does height have to do with one’s ability to teach school or lead in other ways? Absolutely nothing. Deng Xiaoping, for example, was just 150 cm tall, yet his achievements were monumental.
So what does all this have to do with my great-grandmother?
It’s this: Her short stature in no way disqualified her from performing her primary job, which was baking the world’s best cookies.
Her husband, my greatgrandfather, had a kitchen built especially for her, so she could cook other things, too. I remember that all the countertops in that kitchen were short — about 70 cm instead of the usual 80. The high cupboards on the wall were positioned low enough so she could reach them easily.
Of course, he could have shrunk from the challenge by saying, “I don’t make the rules for cupboards.” Rather, he took the initiative and solved the problem.
In vast bureaucracies, unfortunately, initiative and common sense are seldom valued. Obvious and easy solutions are put on hold. In Shaanxi, an education official initially poured salt on the
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wound of the would-be teacher by saying the department “plans to drop the requirement next year”.
China prides itself on its ability to move quickly when needed, and the need for a uniform policy on physical requirements for teachers is now abundantly clear. Instead of next year or some other time, how about dropping the height rule right now?
That meeting should last about two minutes.
A book collection of Randy Wright’s columns for China Daily — called Surfing China — can be found on Amazon.com.