Voices in the System: The Hidden Rules for China's Teachers

（This post was originally published on Feb 27, 2025)

Today’s Keywords

体制内: “In the System”

编制/Bianzhi: “Authorized Permanent Employment By State-sponsored Institutions”

年度考核: Year-end Evaluation/Review

高考/Gaokao: College Entrance Exam

蝇营狗苟/Ying Ying Gou Gou: Like a fly chasing filth, like a dog living off scraps

基本合格: Barely Satisfactory

缺乏工作热情: Lacking Work Enthusiasm

杰出教师: Outstanding Teacher

三好学生: Three-Goods Student Award

My last meeting with Nini was on the second day of Chinese New Year when she brought her cousin to meet me. Coincidentally, that boy, who had just finished the grueling college entrance examination, Gaokao, and started his college life, was also in the midst of family conflict after coming out as gay to his parents. I felt like I had entered some time loop, with the past year seemingly rewinding. The 2024 Spring Festival was similar - the three of us sat in a small shop, complaining about our elders' outdated views, like a collection of mirrors reflecting traditional Chinese family dynamics. A year later in 2025, Nini remained trapped in that suffocating school, branded with a Barely Satisfactory evaluation. The Bianzhi system had ultimately become an invisible yoke binding her. I once tried to explain Bianzhi to my American friends, but seeing their "that makes no sense" expressions, I realized this hybrid of cultural and institutional elements couldn't be fully conveyed in another language. So this time, I chose to explain this unique system through specific examples from my life, illustrating both how it works and why Chinese people devotedly embrace it. We plan to make this into a series, “Voices in the System.”

All About Bianzhi (编制)

Our most recent meeting was on the second day of Chinese New Year in my hometown. Just the day before, Nini had suddenly received an order to "come to the school" and it turned out to be a meeting to announce her annual evaluation result.

As Nini reached school, she ran into another teacher who was leaving in tears. Her heart sank—she suspected what was coming would be a criticism session. Like the Cultural Revolution sixty years ago, teachers were still the targets of public criticism, albeit in a somewhat gentler form now. Upon entering, she found a square office with a table in the center. Two leaders, a man and a woman, sat on the side facing the door, looking up at her. The male wore a smile, though his true thoughts were impossible to read; the female’s expression was stern, not attempt to hide her impatience. One after another, they took turns—one relentlessly pointing out flaws with sharp, cutting remarks, while the other followed up with meaningless platitudes like "That may be true, but it's not all bad."

Imagine driving an hour to your workplace on Christmas Day, only to be verbally lashed by harsh supervisors in a closed office, all to receive a Barely Satisfactory year-end review of your overall performance.

If I were in her shoes, I'd probably be updating my resume on job-hunting apps. But Nini seemed numb to it all, passively accepting their condescending judgment. I knew she had no choice. Once you're in the system, Bianzhi binds you completely.

When Nini was 18, her Gaokao performance was middling - neither extraordinary nor disappointing. Following her parents' wishes, she enrolled in a teachers' college, majoring in Chinese Literature for teaching elementary school students. Another girl from her high school, despite getting high scores, chose the same college. Their teacher expressed regret but understood - after all, in parents' eyes, "stability" trumps everything.

So what does a stable Bianzhi mean to our hardworking Chinese people? How important is it?

Linguistically, Bianzhi refers to officially organized employment, more specifically, the quota and position allocation system established through institutional design. Some English translations like "staffing of public institutions" or "administrative establishment" cannot fully capture its essence. Bianzhi encompasses civil servants working for the government, public school teachers, public hospital doctors, and state-owned enterprise employees. These positions, obtained through various national or local examinations, are typically permanent - barring serious misconduct, employees with Bianzhi cannot be dismissed. So, combined with the information gathered above, a better definition might be "authorized permanent employment by state-sponsored institutions".

Chinese people have long called it the "iron bowl (铁饭碗)" since the last century, as it provides stable income - where there's money, there's food. Food security is paramount to Chinese people who have endured numerous famines, both natural and man-made. While the pandemic has made stable income sources particularly important in Chinese society, it was merely a catalyst for existing attitudes about Bianzhi.

To become eligible for a teacher’s position with Bianzhi, candidates must first obtain a teaching certificate and then pass the "Bianzhi Examination in Education." After the written test, only one in three candidates typically can advance to the interview stage, and the final acceptance rates range from 20% to 30%. Of course, acceptance rates can be even lower in popular cities and districts as the number of applicants grows. Shanghai, for instance, is more competitive than other cities, and its core districts (like Pudong New Area and Xuhui) have higher qualification requirements and lower acceptance rates. Schools cannot arbitrarily dismiss teachers with Bianzhi, and even if they are dismissed, their Bianzhi status remains valid, allowing them to work at other schools in the region once they meet the relevant requirements. If Nini wants to work for another school, her Bianzhi needs to be transferred there, which is not easy as Bianzhi quota of one school is always limited.

However, Nini's workplace, being a prestigious municipal elementary school, has an unwritten rule: if a teacher receives an Unsatisfactory year-end review for two consecutive years, their Bianzhi at the school will be canceled.

"A Barely Satisfactory review means I technically passed but only escaped punishment - I didn't meet their standards," she explained.

What are these unstated standards? Nini couldn't explain clearly, and neither could "they," the supervisors or the school authorities. Following regulations and completing teaching tasks - that's what most people would consider standards for teachers. But "they" believed this was far from enough, at least far from what makes an "excellent" teacher.

When I saw Nini a year ago, during the 2024 Chinese New Year holiday, she had been interning at this "best" local elementary school for about six months. When the Bianzhi exam results were released, I learned from social media that she had ranked at the top - first in the written test and fifth in the interview. Only those who have experienced such exams could understand how prestigious these rankings are in China. The rankings were public, and many friends discovered it, exclaiming to me, "Nini is that brilliant?" Such is the Chinese obsession with rankings.

Nini was still skinny, but she had lost her spark. Her pale face was breaking out in acne, looking more haggard and exhausted than she had in high school without makeup.

"I shouldn't have come to teach at this school. But what other choice did I have? My parents forced me to do so," she said, her voice filled with resentment and regret but mostly resignation at her inability to change her reality.

In our subsequent conversation, Nini confided in me about the various hardships she'd endured over the past six months, from the flaws in the school's educational system to some unspoken rules. Although I wasn't sure then if I'd ever have the chance to record and publish these stories, I stubbornly typed some notes in my phone's memo. Now, I'm grateful I did.

(Applicants queuing to take Bianzhi tests. Photo: CCTV)

Like Flies Chasing Filth, Like Dogs Living Off Scraps (蝇营狗苟)

The story started from a recording Nini secretly made during a meeting, capturing a three-hour litany by her elementary school leadership.

During the meeting, a school leader used the Chinese idiom, Ying Ying Gou Gou(蝇营狗苟), to refer to some teachers. This phrase is commonly used to describe those who "buzz around like flies and grovel like dogs," a harsh metaphor for people who live without dignity.

Nini told me that more teachers had called the 12345 hotline (a government service line for non-emergency public complaints) to report issues than parents had, basically about the ridiculous regulations for teachers and leaders’ harsh manners. She found some comfort in knowing she wasn't the only teacher struggling.

She mentioned another "rebellious" teacher, who was also labeled with this derogatory phrase. I’ll call him Mr. Rebellion. After finding moldy chicken wings provided by the school canteen, he reported the unsanitary conditions to leadership. However, he received an Unsatisfactory evaluation that year partly because the leaders claimed his language when reporting the issue was too aggressive.

This year, Nini told me that Mr. Rebellion received another Unsatisfactory evaluation due to a "vacant class" where students had no teacher present. Yet they could hardly find any other faults; this "rebellious teacher" had spent the past year walking on eggshells, diligently participating in all required activities and hiding his personality.

In another instance, when a female teacher had a family emergency, the school refused her leave request. She then went to the principal's office and broke down crying. Afterward, her leave was approved, and she received a Satisfactory year-end evaluation.

When I asked why this teacher wasn't punished, Nini didn’t have a specific answer. Perhaps, I thought, it was because the woman was fighting for personal matters, while the Unsatisfactory teacher posed a potential threat by challenging the school's system and leadership authority.

"They want to eliminate him because he won't submit, so they're deliberately creating problems, sometimes setting traps to make him fail," Nini said.

As mentioned earlier, teachers could lose their Bianzhi after two consecutive Unsatisfactory results. After his evaluation meeting, Mr. Rebellion announced he had recorded everything and would appeal to the city's Education Department with all his documented evidence. The school seemed unfazed. The local Education Department and schools often maintain intricate networks, with prestigious schools holding well-established connections within these government departments. During my high school years, the students who anonymously reported issues to the department were always eventually identified and punished, while schools continued their practices unchanged.

When I asked whether some phenomenon existed like teachers accepting gifts from students' parents, she confirmed it had happened, sharing her own experience.

The school's parent community includes many influential figures, which is partly why Nini's parents chose this school - to help her build "higher-level" connections. Sure enough, one student's father, a high-ranking local government official, had once invited her to a dinner with other school and government leaders, after which he secretly gave her a gift card with "a heavy number," simply hoping she would give his child extra attention, in class or after class, spending more time on the boy's schoolwork or assigned some tasks for him to get more chance to show his talent.

However, Nini returned the card, leading to an argument with her family, who questioned her, "If you return the card, you are rejecting their attempt to build a relationship with you! How can people trust you to maintain connections in the future?"

Such incidents were common. Nini found it deeply distressing, having believed teaching would solely involve educating students. "But now I can't even focus on teaching!"

Many teachers, including Nini, felt that teaching might be their job's easiest, most straightforward part.

On October 26, 2023, a 23-year-old elementary school teacher in Henan, a northern province of China, left a note before committing suicide, triggering resonance with many Chinese teachers. She wrote, "When will teachers be allowed to do teaching-related work only? How can unhappy teachers educate children to be optimistic?"

I couldn’t help but wonder - was she also considered substandard by the authorities? And what about those who quietly accept gifts - are they counted among the "flies or dogs”?

(A scene from the Chinese drama, A Love For Separation)

Lacking Work Enthusiasm (缺乏工作热情)

Teachers would take turns giving speeches at the school's weekly all-hands morning assembly. On Nini's day, she wore a black dress that fell below her knees. She had never expected that because the hem had a layer of tulle, a female leader described her attire as "inappropriate for school."

Though Nini had stopped dressing up since then, the disapproval continued. One leader criticized her: "Like Lin Daiyu (林黛玉, a fragile female character from classical Chinese literature), you don't understand life's rhythm, still lost in a schoolgirl's world."

She explained further, "As I just started my job, I got pneumonia. I was afraid to take sick leave because they hardly approved any request, and it developed into sinusitis. When I missed one event and later apologized to the leaders while sniffling, one of them said this to me, claiming I lacked work enthusiasm."

"Lacking work enthusiasm" was a significant reason for her Barely Satisfactory evaluation. Nini said it might have been because, as leadership noted, "she didn't proactively greet other teachers," or perhaps other unexpected aspects. Still, they never pointed out any problems with her actual teaching.

The school recently surveyed all teachers about their desire to become Outstanding Teachers, a government-awarded title that recognizes exceptionally talented elementary and secondary school teachers. The options ranged from "very strong" to "absolutely not interested." Teachers who chose "not interested" were called in for questioning, probably to find out why they didn't have a passion for work.

Nini mentioned a punishment given by the leadership. Teachers were required to handwrite the syllabus using a standard script with various visual charts and patterns. Because some of her characters were connected, which was considered imperfect, the leadership made her rewrite all seventy pages, insisting that all lines be drawn with a ruler. Nini worked through the nights with her mother, who helped to complete the punishment.

"Sometimes I feel like I'm constantly working overtime for pitiful pay," Nini said. Her monthly salary, not more than 10,000 CNY or 1500 USD, barely covered her basic expenses, and rules violations could result in deductions.

The public envies teachers' winter and summer breaks, but even these little benefits are curtailed. Teachers must follow a duty roster to be at school "in case of emergencies" during all holidays, even when students are absent. Additionally, they have to attend various training sessions and events that don't count toward work hours.

"Once, I was already at the airport for a holiday trip when the school called about an event. I had to turn back. To leadership, flight tickets can be canceled, but events can't be missed."

To build its reputation, the school devised endless extracurricular activities. For example, it rented a museum gallery to display students' artwork for one time. When I expressed surprise at this seemingly positive initiative, she laughed bitterly, "You think those are all student works?"

From elementary school, Chinese students are stuck in "honorary titles," such as the Three-Goods Student Award (三好学生). The number of awards is crucial for entering good high schools, typically based on academic performance and extracurricular activities. But Nini said at her school, the Three-Goods Student Award evaluation process was as complex as graduate school applications.

"Though teachers make the final decision, so many eyes are watching. Almost all student scores are public, and shorting someone an award is considered a grave offense."

Nini found her work stifling. She was unable to risk offending parents while facing constant criticism from school leadership. She wanted to leave but faced limited positions elsewhere, where information would flow freely in the city's education circle. She was reluctant to use family connections again.

While Bianzhi exam results are transparent, the hiring process isn't. Candidates are assigned to schools in principle, but in practice, schools can select their own, leaving room for manipulation. This is why the school leadership told Nini, "You know, with your ranking, you wouldn't normally qualify for our school."

What makes a good school? It may be responsible teachers, complete resources, and rich activities, but it may also be students' privileged backgrounds or extensive networks. I can't explain it clearly, and neither can they.

After our conversation about Bianzhi ended, I didn't want to let our atmosphere stagnate over such a suffocating topic, so we began talking about the past and future.

Nini used to be one of the most popular girls in high school. With both her appearance and academic performance, though Nini couldn't constantly be the center of student gossip, her name always sparked conversation whenever it came up.

She once had a solo singing performance at a school arts showcase, which drew students from other schools who came specifically to see her. At that time, Nini would share her coverings of songs on a social media platform, where some listeners would comment, "Your voice accompanies me to fall asleep at night."

But she hasn't shared her singing in a long time, partly because her school prohibits teachers from having a significant social media following.

I asked her, "If you had the chance, without worrying about social prejudices, what would be your dream job?"

She hesitantly replied, "Singing at bars or live music venues."

But immediately after, she dismissed her long-held wish. "But I cannot give up my Bianzhi, at least not now."

（This article is written by Kat and edited by Biyi and 使明各. You can contact the author at: kat.elephantroom@gmail.com）