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Zach is 12, a rather young age to decide who is 鈥渄umb鈥� and who isn鈥檛. Zach, unfortunately, it has been decided, is 鈥渄umb.鈥� He鈥檚 never been in love, he鈥檚 never put a car into drive, he鈥檚 never sat at the adults鈥� table. But it鈥檚 been decided that he鈥檚 鈥渄umb.鈥�

Strangely, the kids tabbed as 鈥渄umb鈥� are given the least attention, at least in the mountains of China where I live and teach. This is a pretty precarious situation for Zach, who is supposed to have at least 3 years of compulsory education left. He鈥檚 placed at the back of the class with other students like him. If he can鈥檛 keep his hands to himself or shut his mouth, he鈥檚 encouraged to read quietly or put his head down instead of participating. He complies because what 6th grader wouldn鈥檛 agree to that deal?

Little does Zach know that every second he spends with his head on his desk is a second of education he will never get back.

There鈥檚 no layaway for grammar points. He can鈥檛 comprehend how bopping his deskmate today on the head during a lesson about quadrilateral shapes is going to affect whether in 10 years he has a desk job with health benefits or stands on a factory assembly line for 13 hours a day. It鈥檚 nearly impossible for him to connect the dots between an assignment on the future tense and the actual future.

And, he shouldn鈥檛. That鈥檚 not Zach鈥檚 job. That鈥檚 my job. Weeding out the 鈥渃ans鈥� from the 鈥渃annots鈥� is the way education is structured perhaps everywhere, but most certainly in China. Once you鈥檝e been marked, you鈥檙e either in for an adolescence of an uphill battle or a self-fulfilling cruise toward higher education. Whether Zach鈥檚 in Sanzhaung, Sao Paulo, or Sydney, that鈥檚 the way it is. But for Zach and his friends, this is how it looks in our town of Sanzhuang, China.

I am a first-year American educator who teachers English as a Foreign Language to 36 sixth graders in rural China. Based on historical statistics, about half of them will go to high school. Of that 18, maybe three to five will go to any college at all, let alone the higher tiered universities that companies choose to hire from. You鈥檝e got to be extraordinary to do that.

Factor in that 100% of students鈥� parents didn鈥檛 go to college. Factor in that almost all of their teachers didn鈥檛 either. Factor in that college, even if tuition is totally free, still incurs a staggering opportunity and living cost for students in rural Yunnan.

Take this into consideration and Zach鈥檚 unjust predicament begins to make sense. At some point as a teacher, it seems, you鈥檝e got to put your chips on the table. If you鈥檙e teaching 40 to 90 students, among who four have a realistic shot at higher education and only half can make it to freshman year of high school, you鈥檝e got to give them that chance. There simply aren鈥檛 enough hours in the school day to get Zach up to speed in long division, let alone times tables. He had his chance. He missed it. It鈥檚 over. Put your head on your desk and bask in the blissful ignorance of a disappearing education.

Zach鈥檚 not going to college. Zach鈥檚 not going to high school. But, that does not preclude Zach from receiving a meaningful education on his terms. It鈥檚 not the system that鈥檚 screwing Zach over; it鈥檚 the system鈥檚 resources. Too many students, not enough teachers, not enough support, not enough time.

I am not a great teacher, especially in my first year in this exam-intensive system. The reality is that few teachers want to come to my village and I鈥檒l never be as good as a local English teacher who鈥檚 been through the process, knows the ins and outs, and can perceive with almost Nostradamus like efficiency, what is and isn鈥檛 going to be on the county-wide final exams. What I鈥檝e realized that I and other Teach for China fellows can provide, however, is a new perspective on what鈥檚 possible for Zach and others.

I don鈥檛 let Zach read or sleep in my class. At the very least, he has to call back vocabulary words like everyone else. He is almost illiterate in Chinese, so in English class I just tell him to do his best, but don鈥檛 over scrutinize his work.

The other day I was giving a review lesson about superlatives. Taller! Older! Stronger! Bigger! On a scale of excitement, the lecture was somewhere between a James Lipton monologue and Barry Manilow鈥檚 Classic Christmas. Repeat, repeat, repeat. I actually felt bad for my students. I assigned them to copy the vocabulary words, which were all adjectives with -er tacked onto the end, and began to walk around the room. I looked over at Zach in the back left corner, who was uncharacteristically industrious. As I walked toward him, he quickly shoved something in his desk and looked up straight ahead.

鈥淲hat is it Zach?鈥� Honestly, if I was watching this class I鈥檇 be bored too.
鈥�
鈥淣othing...鈥� A cheeky grin emerges.

When the bell rang Zach approached me.

鈥淢r. Loeb, you can鈥檛 tell Mrs. Wang (his homeroom teacher)鈥�. After all, it鈥檚 your fault.鈥�

鈥ㄢ�淲ell yeah, I know, but not every class can be fun. I鈥檝e told you that.鈥濃��

鈥淣o! I was working on this.鈥�

He shows me an absurdly intricate drawing of a futuristic looking city. Written on the bottom in Chinese, 鈥淢y Ideal Hometown.鈥�

This year Sanzhuang鈥檚 theme for the (Community Outreach Rediscovery and Enlightenment) project is 鈥淢y Ideal Hometown.鈥� My two other colleagues and I asked students to get into groups of five with others from their village. The groups would compete for an educational field trip to Yunnan鈥檚 capital, Kunming, at the end of the school year. Zach is from a tiny mountain village called Dongpo. Because his academic success has been low, he was apparently not a desirable team member. Because Dongpo is the smallest village of all the feeder towns for Sanzhuang, the other students said they had to take Zach on their team, otherwise they would only have four members.

Zach didn鈥檛 let them down. It appeared that all his restlessness and nervous energy in the classroom was being channeled toward the project. Whereas previously getting him to write his own name in English proved an almost impossible task (his favorite version is ScAh), now he was drawing elaborate diagrams of urban plans, and doing so way beyond the expectations of the project.

When half of the remaining 27 teams were eliminated after the first two rounds, tiny Dongpo was still in contention for the trip to Kunming. Zach would come up to me after almost every class asking what the score of the competition was, even though I鈥檓 sure he knew each team鈥檚 point total by heart. I鈥檇 have to tell him, 鈥淶ach, we just got back from a holiday. The score hasn鈥檛 change in a week.鈥�

Last weekend we tallied the scores. Zach didn鈥檛 win. Dongpo placed sixth out of an original group of 30, a rather impressive showing considering they were competing against teams from towns 5 times their size. The winning team was made up of five incredibly motivated girls who, though it鈥檚 still early on in the game, look to be very much on track to go to high school, college, and beyond.

But Zach held his own. He may score 70 points lower than them in the classroom, but his team finished a mere five spots below them on the CORE project. And you know what? He was bummed out. He asked me what set the other team apart and why his team didn鈥檛 win. Dongpo鈥檚 model was great, I said, but the winning team鈥檚 written work was exemplary. Every week Zach receives papers full of red X鈥檚, 30 percent test scores, and angry looks from teachers. At this point, he鈥檚 learned to shrug it off. But not this time.

Seeing Zach give his absolute all--and then some--got me thinking. Elementary school isn鈥檛 about prepping kids for high school and college. At least, it shouldn鈥檛 be. School is about giving kids the chance to discover a passion and belief in themselves. Some kids like math, some kids don鈥檛 like math but do it because they know they have to. Some kids hate it, can鈥檛 do it, and will never change their mind.

That doesn鈥檛 mean they can鈥檛 be passionate and have confidence about something. That doesn鈥檛 mean they鈥檝e missed their shot at a productive obsession. Newton liked gravity, Galileo liked stars, and Zach from Dongpo likes drawing intricate constructions of his ideal hometown. Newton wouldn鈥檛 have known how much he loved gravity if an apple didn鈥檛 bonk him on the cranium. Zach wouldn鈥檛 have known how much he loves drawing if he wasn鈥檛 given the opportunity through the CORE project. I mean and believe that with complete conviction. Zach鈥檚 not even close to 鈥渄umb,鈥� whatever that means, his passions have just been on the shelf.

In the next 10 years, the scale will never be tipped in Zach鈥檚 favor to go to college in China. The time, money, and political influence needed to give low-performing kids in rural China a high-level of education just isn鈥檛 here. But, if we have the opportunity to move the scales ever so slightly, we should give it our best shot. The students deserve it. Zach deserves it.

Photos courtesy of Taylor Loeb, Teach For China 2013-15 Fellow