Gradually Adjusting to—and Growing to Like—University Life

From Sunday registration until today, I have actually been on campus only four days. But in these four days my whole life has become completely different.

On Sunday, my son and his mother accompanied me to register. Once I was settled, they took a taxi from the school gate to the high-speed rail station and went back to Beijing. Watching their taxi drive away, my nose tingled and my eyes grew wet.

Parting from family is the hardest part of a middle-aged person leaving home to study. The sutras say that "leaving family and home to become a sramana" is difficult; for us ordinary folk, leaving family for school is no less hard. Family ties matter too much in life. My son messaged me from the station: "Mom says you won't last a week before you sneak out of school and come home." In that moment even I doubted I would stay.

The first night at school I could not sleep. For one thing I missed home; for another, the young men in my dorm were all gamers, playing late and loudly enough to disturb my sleep. I introduced myself briefly and we were acquainted. They were surprised that someone my age was starting university with them, and at the same time admired that an uncle their parents' age had the perseverance to take the national college entrance exam and come study clinical medicine with them.

These kids are actually easy to get along with—kind and helpful. Playing is natural at that age; my own son also games, and he has long since worn my patience smooth, so I bore no ill will at the dorm gamers disturbing my rest.

In fact, from the second night my sleep mostly recovered; I fell asleep within minutes of getting into bed, even though the kids were still gaming away. Because I knew them a little better, I asked them to keep the noise down, and they immediately obliged—looking after this "old man."

The students admitted to this school generally score around the top 40%-50% in their province's college entrance exam. For fresh-school leavers that is a middle-of-the-pack result; after all, a middle-aged person like me, out of school for nearly 30 years, with light preparation, scored the same. Generally such students have weak study habits: most like to play, neither previewing nor reviewing, seeking only superficial understanding, with average self-discipline.

More than half my classmates are "second-generation medical workers"; many parents run clinics or work in medical institutions, and they can borrow a leg up in life. Some told me their families have hereditary treatments for certain diseases, with closely guarded secrets they will practice once licensed. So many are not here out of a true love of medicine.

My arrival piqued their curiosity. I had dawdled at home until the last few hours before coming to register. Before setting off I was nervous, even wavering about whether to come; leaving home for study mixed reluctance with fear that I would not adapt. But from the second day on campus, I adapted quickly.

My school has two campuses; the medical disciplines occupy one, and nursing, pharmacy, and the rest share a new campus. The two campuses together hold ten-odd thousand teachers and students. My campus is small—walking around it takes less than twenty minutes. From the dorm to the cafeteria, classroom, library, training building, or lab building takes no more than ten minutes on foot, so life and study are convenient. On registration day I happened to visit the other campus; it is much larger but, paradoxically, less quiet than this one.

The dorm conditions are genuinely poor: 6-8 people per room, two public restrooms per floor, and one shared bathhouse for the whole school. In 1998 an old middle-school classmate and I entered the same university; after seeing our dorm, he said this was worse than our 1998 housing. He was right: the dorms are shabby and indeed poorer than in our day. But air conditioning was installed this year, a big step up—last year our dorms had none.

Classrooms and the library do not enjoy this. Classrooms at least have fans, though no AC; the library has neither. But the library is nearly empty, and September in the north is not that hot; with windows open for ventilation, reading in the library is quite comfortable.

The students here generally do not study hard, so on ordinary days only a few people drift through the library; holidays may be a little busier. Compared with my favorite National Library, the overall conditions here are certainly worse. But our campus library has its advantages: first, it has enough professional medical books, and one may borrow ten at a time, which is more convenient than the National Library; second, far fewer readers come, so it is less crowded and noisy.

The moment I walked into our library I liked it. Sitting by a window in the cool breeze, reading or writing, the inner satisfaction eased my homesickness; for a moment I even thought, if only life could be like this forever. Studying here also lets me concentrate more easily than in Beijing, because my life has become simpler, in a state of absolute undisturbed quiet. Our library's holdings may not match those of top medical schools, but for me they suffice; besides, on holidays I can return to Beijing and use the National Library.

Studying at school feels different overall from self-study at the National Library. School has assessments, so every course must be completed in full, which forces more systematic study. Our resources cannot compare with top medical schools, but the foundational clinical-medicine courses are the same nationwide, and the various professional knowledge doctors must master is tested by national unified exams; so as long as one passes, the medical knowledge everyone learns is much the same.

Several of our professional-course teachers teach quite brilliantly, especially the anatomy teacher, whose classes I love. She is experienced and humorous, and her courses are popular. But she ranges far beyond our textbook, which plainly cannot keep up with her level. After a few classes I asked her to recommend better textbooks and ordered them online myself.

For some reason we have no exercise books, which is bad for consolidating what we learn; I bought a whole set of professional exercise books myself. Meanwhile, on Bilibili I found the most popular open courses for each professional course, all taught by top master teachers. Alongside lectures, I am now listening to these courses on Bilibili. I have a habit of learning: I must understand every point thoroughly before stopping, so self-study makes up a larger share of my work.

I am 46 years old and my time is precious. I did not come here just to collect a degree; a degree is useful, but I want to solidly learn real medical knowledge, ideally in depth, which means finding many resources myself. So these days have been full and busy.

My classmates, many of them curious and admiring, whenever they have a chance come over to chat and learn more about me; some teachers do too. I had wanted to study quietly, but I found that if I did not introduce myself I would be besieged. So in one class, taking the teacher's invitation to introduce ourselves, I briefly told them about me.

A few students deeply admire my self-discipline; in class they find ways to sit near me, and when I run on the track at night they join me. At meals they come to my table, hoping for some inspiration. There are a few genuinely studious classmates, and I am glad to influence them a little. They will mostly return to grassroots work as doctors; I come from the countryside and feel deeply for grassroots care, and I hope they will help ordinary people like my parents, so I am glad to nudge these young people in a more positive direction.

Such busyness and socializing have eased my homesickness. My advisor and course teachers look after this older student; I applied to go home every weekend, and my advisor helped secure approval. The PE teacher told me not to worry—that for an older student he would not be too strict in fitness tests—and comforted me that the military-training instructors would look after me too. This help has let me settle in more easily; reintegrating into campus life after nearly 30 years away is genuinely hard.

Old friends still trust me as before and come to consult me, and I try to make time to help. This life transition is completing itself smoothly and step by step. Once it is complete, I hope to secure at least six years of settling-in time for myself.

On this campus it is hard not to be noticed; I imagine that before long teachers and classmates will learn something of my background and even my articles, although I have blocked them all on WeChat for now. I hope none of this affects me too much or disturbs my quiet. Before traveling further, I need first to improve myself.

Today is Teachers' Day. My high-school chemistry teacher contacted me, remarking on my return to campus. I replied that after a hundred battles one returns to study, and that in middle age a further settling of oneself is no bad thing. My ideal still lies in the distance, so I must shoulder my pack and keep walking.

Dear friends and family far away, thank you for your care; I am doing well, so do not worry. In high school, my math teacher, Mr. Mao, once told me that my powers of adaptation were unusually strong. Decades later I remain the same, always able to settle wherever I am placed.