Senior Year Student

Author: Lin Xiaoxiao
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2000-07-01
Features: "Senior Four" students are a group worthy of widespread social attention. Lao She once said, "To pass the exam without dying is to be a god." The special group depicted by the author, in the "Senior Four" class, struggles between hardship and hope. They are unique, suffering, and perform a tragic farce—a semi-autobiographical novel titled Senior Four Students by the author, Xiaoxiao, portrays the experiences of a young girl who just started college, Xiaoxiao, in her "Senior Four" year. You will discover that here, disappointment and hope, pain and longing intertwine. The life and emotions of "Senior Four" students cannot be expressed in just a few words or sentences! Students who fail the college entrance exam and must retake their senior year mock themselves as "Senior Four" students. This book tells their story. One hundred and eight "fallen heroes" from various urban and rural backgrounds begin a new cycle of hardship and hope in this "Senior Four" class, reliving the highly rigorous yet burdensome college entrance exam preparation. They lack official student status, and they don’t even know what identity they are living with. Everything they do is extremely unique, extraordinary, and even their way of dating is unbelievable. For most "Senior Four" students, this class is like a pain camp, a tragic farce.
Excerpt: Disappointment
On July 24th, it was supposed to be possible to check the results via a voice message, but it was announced that it would be postponed to 8 PM on the 25th. Everyone must remember last year’s 24th—it was the day we learned our results, and for me, it was a day when the world lost its color. On that day, phone calls kept coming in from classmates, and I was frantic, casually promising, "I’ll tell you as soon as I know the results." Later, I forgot who I had promised to call back. On the 25th, I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t stand still, my mind was filled with thoughts, but they were a complete mess—no coherence. I could only stare blankly at the TV. Around 6 PM, a well-informed person who had already checked their results called. Dad answered, saying, "Okay, I’ll write it down," then his voice trembled as he said, "Okay, thank you." My heart sank—something was wrong. 596 points. I immediately said, "You must have made a mistake, it’s off by 100 points!" Then I just blanked out. Dad looked at me and said, "Then let’s wait for the phone call to confirm." I didn’t dare to think about last year’s undergraduate admission line of 600 points. There was one thing I was sure of: I wouldn’t be going back to school. If I retake the year, next year you’ll find me in the asylum! Thinking this, I felt a sense of relief. Let fate take its course. Finally, I connected to the life-or-death hotline. The other end of the phone said, "Chinese and Politics total 596, percentage 85." I calmly sat back in front of the TV and asked, "Is that correct? What do we do now?" Everyone didn’t know what to say. It was all over—the hard work, the effort, the disaster, the hope. After hearing the undergraduate admission line, I burst into tears. Who will repay me for all this? Why did I do all this? I had nothing left. Dad told me not to cry, because Grandma has high blood pressure, and if I cried too much, she might get scared and have to be hospitalized. But I couldn’t hold back, wishing I could kneel down and beg them to let me cry—really, I couldn’t take it anymore.