WHILE China’s high-school students were rightly happy after taking the “gaokao” college entrance exam, another group of academics was also relieved as they hung up the responsibility of deciding the fates of others. These were the examiners.

    Sudden disappearance

    When Wang Ligong (alias) walked into his classroom Monday, his students burst into warm applause. The last time they saw their teacher was a month before, when he left without notice. Little did they know he was on a secret assignment: writing the gaokao.

    The gaokao is a rigorous rite of passage in China, when the examinees learn the limits and opportunities of their future higher education. For some rural students, it is life-changing. At university, they become city folk — no longer yoked to the soil like their parents.

    It was suspended during the Cultural Revolution (1966-76) and has been held annually since 1977. The test, which includes sections on Chinese, math, English, natural and social sciences, used to have a standard outline and examination paper, but since 1985, cities like Shanghai and Beijing have run their own versions.

    Under Chinese law, the gaokao and its answers (before the examination) are classified as top secret.

    Wang was “very happy” for the honor of writing the test. The Beijing high school teacher would touch the lives of thousands of Chinese students.

    Around 9.39 million students took the exam this year, more than 70,000 of them in Beijing.

    In China’s test-oriented education system, the gaokao is also a crucial test of teachers’ abilities.

    Teachers are often rewarded if their students score well, and those who can foresee the questions correctly are popular among students and parents.

    Wang has taught for 14 years and never thought he could write the gaokao at such young age. Most of his colleagues have never been offered the opportunity before retirement.

    However, the day a teacher agrees to take the assignment, their life is tinged with tension.

    Li Shuqing (alias) wrote the gaokao several years ago. She was proud to be appointed an examiner, but she was also warned, “Once you leak any information about the test, even unconsciously, you could be jailed for disclosure of State secrets.”

    Prospective examiners have the right to decline, but after they sign a confidentiality agreement with the Beijing Education and Examination Institute, there is no turning back.

    Keeping the examiners’ identities secret is crucial. Only Li’s principal and husband knew of her assignment. Her daughter believed she was visiting her grandparents in Hunan Province. Friends and relatives were told she was abroad.

    Before setting off, the high school teacher knew nothing about the assignment, not even where she would live and whom she would work with.

    Li said the confidentiality agreement also prohibited her from taking part in promotions for schools and private training companies for the next three years.

    Hard work

    In most places, including Beijing, the gaokao lasts two days — June 7 and 8. The results come out in late June. But the examiners usually take more than a month to write the test.

    Examiners are barred from using any communication devices while writing the test. Before setting off, Li decided to stop carrying her cell phone and laptop because “all your communication devices are taken away until the gaokao ends and you are not allowed to take away anything you have used or written during the month.”

    Restrictions on personal freedom are inevitable. Li remembered the place was guarded by the police, calls to family were monitored, and the office building was equipped with electronic interference devices.

    Examiners could not leave without permission. Even a walk in the yard required a two-person escort.

    With no cell phone or internet, Wang felt life had gone back a decade. However, the catering was good and he put on weight.

    The examiners often woke early and worked until midnight. Questions were considered collectively. The examiner team for each subject was comprised of university professors and a few high school teachers. All questions had to be agreed upon unanimously.

    Li said a test question was usually approved after a long discussion or fierce debate. Strict tests determined whether a question was workable or not. Cautious examiners would also spend time considering the language and whether it would be understood by examinees.

    Coming home

    When the exam bell rings, the paper writers wait in dread of hearing about unexpected problems and hope examinees can spot the traps they created.

    The tension continues after the gaokao ends. Like a movie director worrying about the box office, examiners do care about students’ feelings and peer evaluation.

    When he was liberated from the assignment, Wang opened his computer at home to search for opinions on the test.

    “Most said it was good, with no questions too hard or weird,” said Wang, with a humble, but pleased smile.

    “The test involved many situations that people will meet in practice,” a senior teacher of the subject said in an online comment. “It’s a success.”

    Li said the first thing she did on coming home was give her husband and daughter a big hug, shouting, “I’m free.”

    She still keeps her assignment a secret outside the home, but she won’t forget hearing criticism from examinees, complaining it was “too hard.”

    She also resented misunderstandings by so-called experts, who were invited to interpret the test. Li said their interpretations were nonsense and far removed from the examiners’ intentions.

    “They were very ridiculous.” But she couldn’t debate them because of the confidentiality agreement.(Xinhua)