Why some Chinese families are bouncing between education systems– Beijing Review

Students from a symphony orchestra club practice their musical instruments at a school in Chongqing Municipality on March 27, 2025 (XINHUA)

In China’s affluent cities like Hangzhou in Zhejiang Province, the educational path of choice for some families had long seemed clear: exit the pressure-cooker of the public system and enter the globalized world of international or bilingual private schools (often colloquially referred to as “international schools” in China). Yet, a subtle but growing counter-current is emerging. For a small but significant group of parents, the journey is now reversing.

“My eldest child was in a local international school from first to fourth grade,” Wang Hui, a Hangzhou mother told Beijing Review. “It was small-class teaching, rich in activities and with full-time international teachers.” However, Wang began reconsidering her child’s educational path after witnessing her daughter’s lagging progress in Chinese language and core academic subjects. She noted that, in addition to laying a solid foundation in core subjects such as math and science, the public school curriculum fosters a deep connection with Chinese language, traditional culture and social values—all of which strengthen a child’s cultural identity. She also appreciates the structural rigor of the public system’s curriculum and teaching methodologies. At the end of the fourth grade, her daughter was transferred to a public primary school, which is closer to their home, another bonus of the change.

Wang’s choice reflects a nuanced shift. Some families who fled the rigid, exam-centric public system for the holistic, English-immersive environment of international schools are navigating the journey in reverse. Their reasons, beside the changing international education environment, are a pragmatic recalibration based on child-specific needs and a reassessment of cultural and academic fundamentals.

A candidate shares a hug with her teacher before entering the examination hall of the national college entrance examination in Harbin, Heilongjiang Province, on June 7, 2025 (XINHUA)

Anxiety and allure 

The initial draw of international schools is powerful. They promise an alternative to the relentless volume of homework and a singular focus on the gaokao—the all-important national college entrance examination widely considered a make-or-break moment that can alter one’s life course.

These schools are seen as a direct pathway to overseas education, offering curricula, teaching methods and language preparation that provide a smoother transition for students aiming to study abroad. Classrooms are designed as arenas for creativity and critical thinking, a departure from the rote memorization often associated with traditional exam preparation.

Moreover, international schools operate on a different paradigm. Success is measured by portfolios, presentations and global exam scores (for example, in the International Baccalaureate or United Kingdom A-Levels systems), not just by rankings on a class list. The focus is said to be on the individual child’s growth curve.

Yet, this very flexibility can become a source of anxiety. For Emma’s mom in Beijing, who requested anonymity to speak freely about her family’s decision, the lack of clear benchmarks in her daughter’s international kindergarten felt disorienting. “If you can’t even gauge your child’s actual level, how can you talk about personalized education?” she asked in an interview with Lifeweek magazine. “She needed to explore within an orderly framework,” the mother explained.

Defenders of the international model frame this flexibility not as a shortcoming, but as its core pedagogical intent. “International schools are less concerned with ranking students against a single standard than with mapping each child’s unique trajectory. The goal is to develop self-directed learners who can navigate complexity, not just excel in predefined assessments,” Meng Yingying, who worked at an international school for three years, told Beijing Review.

In comparison, as the cornerstone of the nation’s education, Chinese public schools offer a contrasting yet profoundly compelling model. Their strengths lie in a rigorous and systematic approach to learning, following a unified national curriculum that ensures comprehensive mastery of core academic subjects, particularly in mathematics, sciences and Chinese language. This environment fosters discipline, resilience and a strong cultural identity through immersive standard Chinese language instruction and the integration of traditional values.

Furthermore, the system is defined by its high accessibility and commitment to equity, with free compulsory education and policies designed to balance resources across schools.

Needless to say, the stark difference in tuition fees underpins this accessibility. While elite international schools can cost more than 300,000 yuan ($42,765) annually, public schools provide nine years of free compulsory education, with even senior secondary fees remaining a fraction of the cost of their international counterparts.

This economic reality not only makes quality education universally attainable but also reinforces the public system’s role as the primary engine of social equity and mobility in China.

For parents like Wang, these systemic strengths translated into very personal adjustments. “The differences in my child after she transferred to a public school are noticeable,” Wang said, listing them plainly: the pressure to finish homework; the fading of daily English from her child’s life; a shift from elaborate, individualistic party dresses to simpler, uniform-like attire among peers; and less frequent communication with the much busier public school teachers.

Wang’s conclusion, however, is measured. “It took her about six months to integrate and make new friends, and she’s doing well,” she said. The transition also reshaped Wang’s own role as a parent. Previously, she could afford to take a hands-off approach, since the academic demands at the international school were relatively light, and homework rarely spilled into family time. Now, she finds herself stepping into a more vigilant and involved role—closely tracking assignments, ensuring rigorous preparation for tests, and often acting as a learning coordinator between school expectations and her child’s daily routine.

The correct choice? 

The shifting educational landscape in China is also influenced by broader policy and social trends. The national “double reduction” policy, introduced in 2021, which aims to reduce academic burden and off-campus tutoring, has subtly reshaped the public perception of traditional schools. For some parents, the policy signals a move toward a more sustainable pace within the public system, making the idea of returning from the high-cost international track appear not as a retreat, but as a timely realignment with a reformed mainstream.

This has led some families to consider a hybrid, or “third-way,” approach. An increasingly popular tactic involves leveraging the strengths of both systems sequentially: building a robust academic and cultural foundation in public primary and middle schools, then transitioning to an international or bilingual high school to tailor preparation for overseas universities. Others adopt a complementary model, maintaining a public school core curriculum while using summers and holidays for immersive English camps or overseas exchanges to cultivate the global competencies prized by international education.

Ultimately, the choice between systems is deeply personal, devoid of a universal answer. “I don’t know if this choice will prove to have been the right one in 10 years,” Wang said. “But right now, seeing her run on the playground with her classmates, recite classical poems fluently and argue her point with me in sophisticated Chinese, I feel she is rooted.”

“Ultimately, the search is not for the ‘best’ school, but for the right context in which a particular child can thrive,” Meng concluded.

Copyedited by G.P. Wilson 

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