Hello everyone, I’m Wang Ning.

Being able to stand here today feels a bit accidental.

Why do I say that? Because my school is full of talented students, and Class 164 is a very strong group. In my view, among the top twenty or so students in our class, many of them could take first place when the timing is right. After I ranked first, my mother told me not to feel pressured by it. This result only proves that I am capable of reaching first place. In the future, if my ranking goes up or down, that is completely normal, and I should treat it calmly.

Since time was limited, this speech was prepared together with my parents. I’d like to use it to share several ideas about studying and family education.

Scores matter, but they are not everything

Ever since elementary school, my parents have had the same expectation of me: if my attitude toward learning is serious and responsible, they will not blame me for whatever score I get. Because of that, I have never felt extreme pressure about grades, and I rarely perform far below my usual level. My experience is this: do homework with the same seriousness you bring to an exam, and walk into exams with the same ease you have when doing homework.

After entering middle school, my mother put it even more clearly: as long as an exam reflects your real level, that is enough. If your actual level is 90 and you score 90, that is already very good. But if, for some reason, you only score 70, then what my parents feel is not anger but regret—because the effort you put in did not receive a fair return.

At home, test scores never cause dramatic reactions. A 100 does not lead to celebration, and an 80 does not lead to panic. Life is full of examinations of one kind or another. What matters is facing them with composure and showing your true level.

My parents also never tie material rewards to academic results. If something is useful in daily life and within the family’s means, they are willing to buy it for me. In their view, linking everything to grades easily turns a child into someone overly calculating and utilitarian, which pulls learning and life away from their real meaning.

I have never lacked pocket money. I keep a bank card in my wallet for emergencies, and at home there is often some cash set aside as backup.

My parents believe that in a world full of temptations, a child who does not lack money and does not lack love is much less likely to go astray.

Education should include the ability to enjoy life

The ultimate purpose of education is not just to produce high scores. It is to help a child gain the ability to create a happy life and enjoy living.

And in our family, this enjoyment is not postponed until adulthood. It begins now.

Once an older woman said to me, “Your parents treat you so well, so you must study hard and repay them when you grow up.” My mother gently corrected that idea. She told me that repaying one’s parents is not about getting very high marks. It is about living well, starting now, every single day.

So studying is an important part of my life, but it is not my whole life. Making friends, watching movies, dressing nicely, playing with dogs, spending a reasonable amount of time online or playing games to relax, visiting my grandmother and grandparents in the countryside who care deeply for me, even chatting with boys I have a good impression of—all of these make my life rich. They fill it with affection and vitality.

My mother says she can feel my understanding of love in every essay I write.

Why reading classics matters

Reading classic literature is, in my view, one of the keys to learning Chinese well, and also an important way to understand life.

If a work becomes a classic, there must be something exceptional about it. Starting last year, I began reading well-known foreign literary classics. I strongly felt that both my writing and my performance on reading comprehension improved noticeably.

The interesting thing is that while you are reading, the effect may not feel dramatic. But when you begin to write, words and expression seem to flow out almost beyond your own expectation. That is what cultural influence does. It quietly enters a person’s life.

I would suggest that children not spend too much time on “fast-food reading” such as all kinds of disposable magazines, simplistic fairy-tale compilations, or books promising instant success. It is better to read true world classics. At first, it may feel difficult and you may not quite connect with them. But after two or three books, you begin to find the rhythm.

Once my mother asked me, “When you read these great books, do you feel joy?” I said yes. She was very pleased, because joy is the highest kind of enjoyment.

From a practical school perspective, reading classics can raise Chinese scores by around ten points. And in an important entrance exam, those ten points can mean a great deal.

Music and art shape people quietly

Reading, music, and other forms of art all share a deeper purpose: they allow a person, at least for a period of time, to feel happy, emotionally open, and inwardly lighter.

Students are busy, so my mother does not formally arrange “music lessons” in daily life. Instead, when she drives me to and from school or when we go out together, she chooses elegant music to play in the car depending on the moment. In a relaxed state, I gradually became familiar with some famous works from around the world, as well as songs with especially beautiful lyrics.

In fact, one of my essays received a high score because I wrote on a theme connected to the music I had heard during those car rides.

The best guidance is often subtle

Children today can be quite rebellious, and I am no exception.

Because of that, my mother never forces things like reading or listening to music in a rigid way. She handles them casually, almost invisibly, and always pays attention to my mood. If I want to rest or do something else, she respects that. She does not impose her plans on me.

This kind of influence—gentle, natural, and almost unnoticeable—often works better than direct pressure.

Independence begins with small choices

From a young age, my parents deliberately trained my independence, because a child cannot live forever under their parents’ protection.

The most important principle is to respect the child’s choices. In life, many situations do not have only one correct answer. There may be several possible choices, and each can have its own reasoning. Parents should not use only their preferred option as the standard for judging their children.

For example, when I was five, it was very hot after kindergarten, and I was thirsty and wanted a drink. My mother gave me money and asked me to buy it myself. I was shy, afraid, and unwilling to try because I had never done it before. She then told me that I had two choices: either go buy the drink myself and then have it, or refuse to go and simply wait until I got home to drink water. I hesitated, then chose not to go. My mother accepted that as my decision and did not criticize me.

Later, in elementary school, if it rained after class, my mother would not automatically bring me an umbrella. She believed I would find a way—sharing with a classmate, staying in the classroom to finish homework, or waiting it out in a nearby store. I once told her, “Your daughter isn’t as helpless as you think. I’ll figure something out.”

Even now, when I buy clothes, my mother mainly pays for them and lets me decide. One time I went shopping with classmates and bought a shirt from a street stall for 25 yuan, then wore it to school. My mother said it actually looked nice, but she suggested trimming the loose threads so it would not immediately look cheap. The second time, I bought another one and realized after bringing it home that it was too small. She still did not criticize me. She just suggested I give it to a shorter friend.

These were all my choices, and my parents respected them without negative judgment. In that atmosphere, I kept thinking for myself while they kept respecting me. Slowly, I grew up. I learned not to avoid problems, but to face them, think through them, and develop my own judgment.

“Carelessness” is not an excuse

Parents often say, “My child knew how to do these problems. They just lost points because they were careless.”

In my family, we see this differently.

Since fifth grade, my mother has told me that carelessness is really a sign of weak ability or incomplete mastery. We should not use it as an excuse for poor performance, and parents should not use it to help children avoid responsibility.

Being careful, steady, and grounded are essential abilities. If a student truly has those abilities, then losing one or two points occasionally is understandable. But if the loss goes beyond that, it often means the skill is still insufficient or the learning is not solid enough.

My mother started discussing this idea with me in fifth grade, and gradually I came to agree with it. I think it has played a major role in helping me maintain stable scores and perform well under normal conditions.

Let children build real ability

Parents need to learn to let go—as much as possible within a safe and manageable range.

Imagine a child doing something independently and only achieving a result worth 30 points. A parent may be unhappy, criticize the child, or simply do it for them, producing a result worth 90 points. But that 90 is still the parent’s 90. The child remains at zero.

If, instead, the parent lets the child do it and offers guidance in a way the child can accept, the first result may still be only 30. The next time it could become 60. After that, maybe 95. One day, the child may even do it better than the parent.

So parents need to learn how to step back wisely, give children opportunities, and offer timely encouragement and recognition. Parents will not stay young forever. At the right time, they need to hand over the stage and let their children perform.

Children grow through repeated practice and repeated thinking. That is how they become independent, and eventually surpass their parents. My parents often joke, very happily, that I am already the “new wave” pushing the old one onto the shore.

Praise matters more than constant fault-finding

Our culture values modesty, but in education that can sometimes go too far. Many parents fail to notice and appreciate their children’s strengths, while placing too much emphasis on their mistakes.

When I do something right, my parents affirm me and praise me promptly.

When my mother talks with friends and the topic of children comes up, she openly acknowledges my strengths. Sometimes I overhear those conversations. On the surface, children may pretend not to care, but in truth we care a great deal. When our good qualities are recognized, we tend to keep them, strengthen them, and act more in line with that positive image.

When mistakes happen, my parents focus on the specific issue. They analyze what went wrong, without endless lecturing and without dragging up old incidents. Once the matter is dealt with, life goes on. There is no need to stretch out negative emotions or let them dominate everything.

The worst approach is to scold a child in public and make them lose face. Parents should protect a child’s fragile self-respect.

Of course, no one is perfect, and I have my own shortcomings too. I just won’t list them here.

What looks accidental is often the result of long-term care

At the beginning, I said that my coming in first felt accidental. Now I want to add something: when parents truly care for and guide a child well, that kind of “accident” begins to look inevitable.

If a child develops qualities like diligence, resilience, carefulness, and kindness, then ranking first once—or even several times—stops being a miracle. It becomes a natural result.

Finally, I want to express my sincere gratitude to the teachers who care for and educate me, and to my parents as well. Thank you for all your hard work.

And to the friends and classmates who have cared for me and helped me before: thank you.

I wish all teachers and parents success in your work and good health.

And to all students: may you enjoy life and do well in your studies.