Navigating Two Worlds: Reflections on different educational systems
I was educated in China, England, and Scotland. Over the years, I have observed countless differences—not only in the ways teachers teach and students learn but also in the deeper values and expectations behind these systems.
Having lived and learned in both Eastern and Western cultures, I have come to realise that there are strengths and weaknesses in both, and being someone shaped by both systems has given me a unique perspective — but also a personal struggle to find where I fit.
In China, I was shaped by an education system that values hard work, discipline, and respect for knowledge. I am grateful for the perseverance and focus that this has given me. There is a beauty in the collective effort, in the sense of responsibility toward family and society, and in the respect for teachers and learning itself. But at the same time, I sometimes found myself wishing for more space to express my own thoughts, to question, and to explore beyond the curriculum.
When I moved to England and Scotland, I was struck by the openness of classrooms, the encouragement to speak up, to debate, to challenge ideas — and to think independently. There is a refreshing sense of freedom, of personal voice being valued. But I also noticed that not everyone in the Western system knows how much effort it takes for someone from a different cultural background to suddenly be asked to “just speak up” when that’s not what we were trained to do for years. The confidence to speak publicly, to question, and to show “critical thinking” in the way that’s expected in the UK is something many Chinese students — myself included — have to work hard to learn.
What I have realised over time is that neither system is perfect, and both have something valuable to offer. The deep knowledge and discipline from the Chinese system and the creativity and open discussion encouraged in the British system are two sides of what I believe makes education meaningful. But when you have been shaped by both, you can sometimes feel like you’re standing in between — never fully belonging to either side.
That is why I have been trying to find a comfortable position for myself — not only in education but in life. A space where I can carry the best of both worlds and let go of what no longer serves me. A space where I don’t have to choose between being “Chinese” or “Western” but where I can simply be myself — a person shaped by both, navigating both, and contributing to both.
I am sure that many Chinese students and immigrants in the UK feel the same way, quietly negotiating this balance every day — in classrooms, at work, and in social life. There’s often a silent effort behind the scenes: trying to speak up when it doesn’t come naturally, trying to understand unspoken rules of communication, trying to be confident while still holding on to the humility we were taught to value.
Because of that, I think teachers and educators in the UK need to be more aware of these experiences. It’s not about overgeneralising — every person’s story is different, and I don’t want to pretend that all Chinese students think or feel the same way. But it’s about being sensitive to the invisible journeys that students from other cultures are on. Some of us are not only learning content but also learning how to “be” in a classroom that expects things we’ve never been taught to do before.
Perhaps this is the deeper beauty of education—acknowledging that everyone is unique, that every student brings their own history, culture, and way of seeing the world. To me, the role of education is not to force everyone into one mold but to appreciate these differences and create space for all of us to grow in our own ways and at our own pace.
As I keep learning and growing, I hope to become someone who helps build those spaces — where East meets West, where discipline meets creativity, and where different ways of thinking can exist side by side. I don’t have all the answers, and I’m still figuring out what that space looks like for me. But I know that sharing these reflections is part of that journey, and maybe, just maybe, it will resonate with others who are also walking this path between cultures.
So here I am, standing in between, sometimes unsure but always curious — and hopeful that by embracing both my Chinese roots and my experiences in the UK, I can continue to grow into the kind of educator, learner, and person I want to be.