Finding Certainty in an Uncertain World
Medicine is full of uncertainty. After years of studying and practicing, I have grown used to seeking certainty in an uncertain world. But after my child took the college entrance exam, I was at a loss for a while, unsure how to help him choose a university.
My son's score this year was not low; he could get into a 985 or 211 university. But it was not high enough to meet his own expectations, so choosing among universities was especially agonizing for him. He did not have to worry about choosing a major: for a math fanatic like him, mathematics was the only major he would accept. The hard part was choosing the school. After several days of research, he finally shortlisted a Hong Kong university, a C9 League university, and a strong mathematics program at a "double-first-class non-985/211" provincial university, forming his own tiered list, and ruled out every other school.
Based on last year's admission results, his score this year could get into all three. But two of them were not quite safe, and the safety school's reputation seemed a bit small to us. We wanted him to list a few more schools as backups, but he refused. We asked him to choose a lower-tier 985 or 211 as a safety net rather than a strong math program at a provincial university, but he also refused. He even rebuked us, saying that pushing him toward a 985 or 211 was purely for our own face, disregarding his own interests. He said that if none of the three admitted him, he would happily repeat the year or study abroad, and would not consider any other school. Of course, if admitted, he might still go abroad during college.
In the end we could only listen to him. Once we respected his wishes, everything became simpler—at least for me. On reflection, his choice was very reasonable. Whether he will still love mathematics years from now, we cannot know; but at this stage he is strongly drawn to it. Since that is so, of course he should only consider mathematics and nothing else. He does not care about future employment or income; he only wants to devote his life to pure mathematics research. I will let him have his way—for a child with his own mind, the influence we can exert is negligible.
The moment we finally decided not to change the application, I felt a huge weight lifted. I must admit that his reasoning was clear and far better than the so-called more mature advice we had offered. We are also applying for strong mathematics programs in other countries on his behalf; should he succeed and want to study abroad, we will support him.
Lately many people have asked me how my child did on the college entrance exam and how he filled out his application. I can only answer them as above. As this involves his privacy, I will not disclose more specific details; nor will I let too many people know which school he eventually gets into. I will likewise not publicly discuss the college entrance results of my two students or my nephew. I hope everyone understands and will not press me. Both of my students chose to apply to medical schools this year, which comforts me greatly; my efforts, at last, were not in vain.
As a parent, I have been running around arranging school choices all this time, rarely so exhausted, but now it has all come to a close. We are satisfied with every choice currently on the list, so whatever the outcome, we will gladly accept it. If, when the time comes, he is not content and wants to take another shot, I will respect that too.
Mathematics, like medicine, is full of uncertainty, and among university majors mathematics is one of the hardest. But if a person loves mathematics, he will find it interesting rather than fearsome. Whether this interest lasts a lifetime, only time will tell. I hope that, having chosen mathematics, my son will devote his whole life to it, accumulating deeply before releasing, becoming a late bloomer, rather than tasting it lightly.
I myself am a long-termist; I like persevering at one thing and am unlikely to abandon the cause I love midway. In my experience, when a person perseveres in the work he loves, his inner being is at peace. Perhaps in this world, beyond food and clothing, the most important need is inner peace. I do not care whether my child becomes a great mathematician, nor whether he has a good position and income; what I care about more is whether he can live peacefully and at ease in this life.
I cannot predict what changes will happen to this society in the future, so I never presume myself qualified to guide young people, including my own child, in planning their futures. My limited life experience tells me that, while deepening in one field, broadening one's knowledge is greatly beneficial to body, mind, and career. So I only hope they read more books, widen their horizons, and persevere in doing one thing well.
Strictly speaking, everything in this world is uncertain; even biological evolution has a large random component. We live in a world full of uncertainty. Some people worry and fret over this uncertainty, while others take it calmly. A long-termist's inner peace likely comes from having found some degree of certainty in this uncertain world, so that his mind is no longer tossed about.
At my age, I have doubts about how much universities and advisers can accomplish. A university is sometimes a graveyard of genius; no matter how good the school, it inevitably stifles a person's true creativity, because education inevitably carries an empiricist tinge that runs counter to creative thinking.
Many epoch-making creative works in this world were produced by people who dropped out of university; geniuses like Bill Gates and Steve Jobs cannot be taught by universities. So I half-jokingly, half-seriously told my son that if one day he is dissatisfied with every university on earth and chooses to teach himself, I will accept that—after all, that is how I myself did it.
The stronger a person's sense of control over his own life, the less he worries and the happier he is. This sense of control is only strengthened once we have a certain certainty about our own lives. In my experience, the earlier a person positions his own life himself, and the more deeply he researches within a given field, the more certainty he gains and the stronger his sense of control over his life. So letting go is the best gift we can give our children. Their lives—let them master them themselves!