Yanwen’s blog

You've probably played Tetris game before, where you arrange falling blocks of different shapes into rows. Every time you complete a row, it disappears, rewarding you with a score. And that reward makes you happy and want more.

Harvard Medical School once conducted a study where they paid volunteers to play Tetris for several hours a day over three consecutive days. Afterward, almost all of them reported that they continued to dream about playing Tetris, and even when they were awake, they couldn't help but view the world around them through the logic of Tetris.

For instance, when they saw two boxes missing from a row of products on a supermarket shelf, they would instinctively move two boxes from the back row to fill the gap. Some even reported that when looking up at the city skyline, they imagined a long rectangular block falling from the sky, perfectly fitting between two buildings.

This phenomenon is known as the "Tetris Effect." After staring at the Tetris game interface for so long, the image imprints itself on the volunteers' visual systems—a phenomenon scientists call a "cognitive afterimage." This afterimage makes us unconsciously notice images that resemble Tetris blocks.

The study also revealed that prolonged gameplay alters the neural connections in our brains. Researchers observed that new neural pathways formed in the brains of these volunteers. This reflects a broader principle: many long-term experiences create fixed thinking patterns in our minds.

The first lesson we can learn from this is the power of repetition. Repeated exposure to certain activities or thoughts can shape our neural pathways and influence how we perceive the world. We can harness this effect positively by engaging in beneficial activities or thoughts.

The second lesson is about mental flexibility—our brains are adaptable and can be trained to create new pathways, even in our adult years.

Most importantly, the Tetris Effect teaches us the possibility of creating whatever cognitive afterimage that we want through our own consciously directed practice. Isn't that wonderful!

A Chinese saying, 滴水穿石，非一日之功 (Dī shuǐ chuān shí, fēi yī rì zhī gōng), means: "Constant dripping of water wears through stone, which is not accomplished in a day." The saying emphasizes the impact of one small but constant effort over time, much like how repeated exposure and practice can shape our thoughts, habits, and ultimately, our behavior.

By consciously applying these principles, we can cultivate positive habits, enhance our problem-solving abilities, and reach the goals we set for ourselves.

A few months ago, at the request of a young relative in China, I began teaching English to her 6-year-old daughter. Since she’s family, I didn’t accept any payment, even though she offered.

Before we started, I emphasized to her mother the importance of parental involvement in her learning, especially given the girl's young age. We meet online once a week, but without daily review outside of class, progress would be very limited. I even researched effective methods for teaching English to young children.

To illustrate the importance of consistent practice, I shared examples of American-born Chinese (ABC) kids in the U.S. who attend Chinese school every weekend but speak only English at home. As a result, many struggle to speak Chinese by the time they graduate because they don't practice outside the classroom.

I don’t believe that there’s a shortcut to anything good. A Chinese saying goes, 天下没有免费的午餐 (Tiānxià méiyǒu miǎnfèi de wǔcān), there’s no such thing as free lunch. You have to work hard to earn any progress. I also made this clear to her.

My relative promised to practice with her daughter for at least 10 minutes every day. However, that daily practice rarely happened, with various excuses each time. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that they weren’t taking the commitment seriously, not to speak of any appreciation for my time. That feeling really hurts.

Last week, while visiting my son, I expressed my frustration, feeling that my efforts were wasted because the girl wasn’t learning. He suggested that I speak to the mother and end the lessons, but I wasn’t sure how to approach it politely.

Last Friday, I shared it with other relatives in China. One of them suggested giving the girl a weekly test. If she repeatedly failed, I could use it as a polite reason to step away.

I think this approach makes sense, at least providing a way out of this time-consuming fruitless task if necessary.

I regret not addressing the issue sooner and allowing it to continue longer than necessary. Reflecting on this, I realize that my main mistake was not setting clear expectations from the start. By not communicating my expectations, I inadvertently suggested that I had none and that my time wasn’t valuable. 

We can apply it to elsewhere in life. That is, if I want others to take me and my time seriously, I first need to demonstrate that I take myself seriously. This experience has taught me the importance of setting clear expectations to others.

Something came up today that got me thinking. An acquaintance reached out to us from China, asking us how to apply for a Chinese visa for his son, who is a doctor in Kansas.

It reminded me of an old saying I heard long ago, perhaps from my grandma: "儿不嫌娘多" (Ér bù xián niáng duō), which means, "A child never complains about having too many mothers." Though it’s not a popular saying anymore, its meaning has always intrigued me.

The saying reflects the traditional view of a mother—as someone who loves unconditionally, cares for you when you’re young, and gives you red packets during the Spring Festival. The more people who love and care for you, the better. In ancient times, when childbirth was dangerous, women would often ask female friends or relatives to become godmothers for their babies. This way, if something happened to the biological mother, the godmother could step in and continue to care for the child.

I used to think this saying was outdated, given its origins and the advances in medicine. But now, I see it differently.

The saying still holds value today, emphasizing the benefits of having more people in one’s life who care and support you. It underscores the importance of strong family and social bonds.

In fact, you can see the saying as an ancient version of the concept of "connections." In the past, having more godmothers or maternal figures in one’s life meant a stronger support network, which could be crucial for survival and well-being. Today, this idea translates into the importance of connections and networks that extend to the next generation and beyond just family, influencing opportunities and support for future generations.

Just like our acquaintance reaching out to help his son get a visa, these connections continue to provide tangible benefits, demonstrating the lasting value of strong social and familial bonds across generations.

Times have changed tremendously, but the power of relationships and networks remains relevant, even as the nature of those connections evolves over time. This is evident when our old acquaintance from China reached out today for his son in Kansas. It shows that no matter how much time has passed or how far apart we are, these bonds still matter.

Lately, I've been reflecting on three topics. First is the story of Juliet Wu Shihong (吴士宏). Second, a request from an alumnus of the Tianjin Foreign Languages School from the 1970s to write about memories of the old days. Third, some intriguing research on the Tetris effect. While I may not cover all three today, I'll start with Juliet Wu's story.

Juliet Wu Shihong (born 1957) is an outstanding and remarkable figure, belonging to China’s first generation of top-tier professional managers in 1990s. Despite having no social or family background, nor any formal education, she climbed from humble beginnings as a cleaner and nurse to the position of CEO through sheer determination, self-education, and on-the-job learning.

In 1985, she taught herself English and earned a college degree. She joined IBM through a service company for foreign enterprises, starting with tasks as trivial as serving tea, cleaning, and doing clerical work. Over the course of a decade, she rose from IBM South China regional marketing manager to the general manager of IBM's South China branch. By 1997, she had become the General Manager of IBM China's sales branches, and in February 1998, she joined Microsoft as the General Manager of Microsoft China.

In 1999, she wrote and published an autobiography titled 《逆风飞飏》 (Nì fēng fēi yáng) or "Flying Against the Wind." The title reflects her unyielding and indomitable spirit in the face of immense challenges and adversity.

The book was a bestseller in China. When journalists asked her, "What was the primary driver of your success?" Wu replied honestly, "Poverty. It all started with a desire to escape poverty and achieve financial independence. I was scared of being poor, and I was also insecure."

Now approaching age 70, single and childless, Wu was asked by a journalist about her decision to break up with a boyfriend nearly 40 years ago who wanted her to move to America and become a full-time housewife. She reflected, "I don't regret giving up love for my career, but I do regret not having children."

Wu has been an idol for many successful people today, but I can't help comparing the differences between successful females of her time and those of today.

The first notable difference is in their motivations. Wu grew up in poverty, so her primary incentive was to escape it. For her, success was often synonymous with hard work and sacrifice, sometimes at the expense of personal and family life.

In contrast, today's young people often view success as a balance between career and personal life. Or they want success in order to enjoy family life. Society now places greater emphasis on work-life balance, mental health, and family well-being. This shift reflects broader societal changes, where success is not solely measured by career achievements but also by the ability to maintain fulfilling personal relationships and happy family.

Additionally, after four decades of reforms in China, the country is seeing greater affluence and stability. With more resources, support systems, and social acceptance, successful women today often do not have to choose between career and family. They can afford to have both, aided by advances in technology, childcare options, and a more flexible work environment.

In conclusion, the differences between successful women in the 1990s and today can largely be attributed to shifts in societal values, improved economic conditions, and evolving cultural norms. While Wu's generation often had to choose between career success and family life, today’s women benefit from a more supportive environment that allows them to lead more balanced and fulfilling lives.

During my last meeting with one of my Korean students, she expressed concern about her daughter’s education. "We will go back to Korea in a few years. I'm afraid my daughter will struggle to adapt to schools there. She might lag behind in both English and Korean because her vocabulary and grammar in both languages aren't strong enough, even though she speaks English like a native."

This conversation made me think about the differences between the Korean and American education systems, their respective advantages and disadvantages, and how one might leverage the strengths of each while mitigating the drawbacks.

From what I’ve learned, the Korean education system shares similarities with the Chinese system in terms of its emphasis and methods. Both are rooted in the same cultural values and strong work ethic.

Firstly, like China, Koreans culturally place a high value on education and academic achievement. Education is seen as a key route to success, leading to significant pressure on students to perform well in school. The system is also exam-oriented, with students required to pass through multiple levels of testing.

Secondly, the curriculum in Korea is rigorous, with a strong focus on mathematics, science, and language studies, particularly English. For this, Korean students work very hard. Imagine if everyone stands up watching in a theatre, you have to stand up if you want to see the performance. So the children feel the pressure to perform well in school.

Thirdly, the learning methods in Korea, similar to those in China, emphasize rote memorization, drill practice, and standardized testing. The classroom environment is teacher-centered, with an expectation of respect and discipline from students.

In contrast, American children experience a more relaxed, fun-filled approach in public schools, which supposedly emphasize the holistic development of students. Academic performance is important, but so are other aspects like extracurricular activities, and social skills. The U.S. system embraces the idea that there are many paths to success, not just through traditional classroom learning. Creativity, critical thinking, and independent learning are strongly encouraged.

These differences explain why South Korea consistently ranks high in global education assessments like PISA, especially in mathematics and science.

On the other hand, the U.S. education system, with issues like inequality, shows more variability in academic outcomes, with some schools excelling while others fall behind.

Culturally, the two countries are vastly different. Korea values collective achievement and social harmony, viewing academic success as a reflection of family honor. Therefore, parental involvement in children's education is exceptionally high in Korea. In contrast, the U.S. emphasizes individual achievement, self-expression, and the pursuit of personal interests.

A Chinese saying goes, 尺有所短，寸有所长 (Chǐ yǒu suǒ duǎn, cùn yǒu suǒ cháng), meaning: "A foot may have its shortcoming, and an inch may have its strength." This implies that everything has its strengths and weaknesses. In this context, both the Korean and American education systems have their own advantages and disadvantages, and one must recognize and leverage the strengths while acknowledging the limitations.

Finally, in a country where everyone runs, you can’t just walk or lay flat (躺平, tǎng píng). While people may not always have the option to choose where they live or to experience the best of both worlds, they can strive to make the most of the opportunities available to them in any given moment. 

This mindset extends beyond education and can be a guiding principle in many areas of life, reminding us to embrace what we have and turn challenges into opportunities for personal growth.