Tonight, I walked into the classroom as usual, feeling quite relaxed, but by the time I left, it was hard to maintain that initial calm.

Recalling My First Class Cadre Election
I can’t remember any class cadre positions I held in elementary school. My first time as class monitor was in middle school, at the age of 12, in the second year. On the first day of school, I found out I was still in Class 100. Back then, our school had five classes for the second year: 99, 100, 101, 102, and 103. Due to the high school entrance exam, the top-performing students from each class were reassigned to Class 101 (while the lower-performing students from Class 101 were moved to other classes). The main criterion for this reassignment was the final exam results from the second semester of the first year. I had ranked fifth in my class that semester, but I wasn’t selected for Class 101, which left me puzzled. However, being too young to fully understand, I didn’t dwell on it and simply went to register for Class 100. After registration, the teacher immediately appointed me as class monitor without any discussion. To this day, I still find that decision abrupt! As it turned out, my tenure as monitor lasted only one day… The next morning, a relative who knew about my situation took me to see the school’s disciplinary officer. After clarifying the situation, I was finally transferred to Class 101. Once there, I realized that academic performance wasn’t the main criterion for being placed in the “key class.” Some classmates who had ranked 20th or even 30th in their previous class had made it into the key class due to their parents’ influence… This left me with the first deep shadow of my academic life. Of course, this brief stint as class monitor also came to an early end…

Later, in the third year of middle school, I still didn’t understand what a “key school” was, but my uncle once again “saved” me. While others were applying to key high schools, I applied to a regular high school because my uncle had transferred there as a teacher. Looking back, I realize how little I understood back then! Of course, this wasn’t my worst decision—that came later.

In high school, I didn’t attend the regular school where my uncle taught but instead went to a newly established private school. Reflecting on it now, that decision was quite foolish. The school had no experience in high school education and essentially used us as guinea pigs, yet I was still lured in. Many of these pivotal decisions in my childhood were made without much direct involvement or intervention from my parents. I commend them for this, as they likely didn’t fully understand these matters themselves. If they didn’t know better, it was wise not to blindly trust others, leaving many important decisions to me. If I hadn’t made so many wrong choices in my youth, I might not be sitting here today reflecting on these issues. Independent decision-making and critical thinking are crucial, and one shouldn’t dismiss this approach just because of past mistakes.

In my first year of high school, since no one else was foolish enough to attend this seemingly hopeless private school after being accepted into a key school, I naturally had the best entrance score in my class. As a result, I was appointed class monitor without any democratic process. I served as monitor for a full year, but the teacher who appointed me didn’t last long before leaving. It all seemed absurd, but that’s how it happened. The subsequent teacher, Mr. Tan, had some knowledge but used a mix of elementary and university-level teaching methods. In class, he treated us like college students, lecturing endlessly. Outside of class, he treated us like elementary students. I vividly remember classmates being punished for fighting, skipping class, or staying up all night playing games by copying texts, standing in the corner, or doing hundreds of squats. One of my female classmates was even slapped by her father in front of the teacher for fighting in class. My first year of high school was marked by this atmosphere of “white terror.” The class was divided into factions, constantly scheming and fighting, resembling a mini political arena. I even remember how our class would sing a modified, insulting version of “Look at Me 72 Changes” every afternoon, which became so popular that even elementary school kids started singing it to mock others. As class monitor, I was merely a figurehead, never fulfilling my duties and even joining in the scheming against teachers.

By the second semester of my first year, it was time to choose between the arts and sciences tracks. At this point, I made what I consider my first major mistake in life: I inexplicably chose the arts track. Even my parents objected, but being young, rebellious, and stubborn, I went against everyone’s advice and chose the arts.

After choosing the arts, I entered my second year of high school. I knew my decision was poor, but I felt no regret. Instead, I continued to rebel. However, rebellion requires some foundation—what was I rebelling against without any understanding? So, I hoped to change my situation through hard work. At the start of my second year, I encountered my first class cadre election, which somewhat resembled tonight’s election. It was a girl’s casual gesture on stage tonight that suddenly brought back all these memories, prompting me to write this reflection.

At the start of my second year, I ran for class monitor. I spent a lot of time researching and crafting a five-page campaign speech, which I condensed into a 20-minute presentation on stage. Of course, I lost! The person who won only spoke a few sentences… What did she say? I can’t remember, because those words seemed irrelevant—what mattered was what happened behind the scenes. The class had about 80 students, mostly girls, and the voting followed gender lines, so I was voted down… Despite the quick and embarrassing loss, the teacher still gave me a chance, likely out of favoritism, by appointing me as vice monitor. On the surface, I looked impressive standing there with a big notebook, but in reality, I didn’t take the role seriously. I didn’t think it was my job to do such work, so I contributed little to the class. If anything, I avoided causing harm. During this time, I also served as vice president of the student council, which meant I didn’t have to participate in morning exercises and only had to check dormitory attendance. I didn’t worry about our class losing points because I was in charge of the dorms. But this “cushy job” was also a favor from the school administration… I won’t go into details.

Seeing a classmate go on stage with two sheets of paper reminded me of all this. It’s a reflection on the past. She didn’t become class monitor tonight for various reasons, and I won’t comment much on that. In fact, I think the unexpected outcome she faced is similar to what I experienced. The difference is that back then, I had a wise teacher supporting me, but here, there’s no such support, so the outcome is entirely different.

After my second year, I never held any class cadre positions again, feeling that I had done a poor job and that such roles simply weren’t for me.

Thoughts on Being a Class Monitor
I suppose I have some lingering feelings about being a class monitor, so let me share my thoughts on the role. Based on my past perspective, I thought the class monitor was a useless position because class responsibilities were divided into four areas: academics, discipline, hygiene, and finances. These were already managed by other cadres, so the monitor was merely a symbolic figure. If the monitor interfered too much with other cadres’ duties, it could lead to conflicts, but if they did nothing, they seemed completely detached. Looking back now, there’s some truth to this view, but back then, I didn’t understand the concept of sacrifice or the difference between sacrifice and contribution.

Is there really such a big difference between contribution and sacrifice? Absolutely. Now, I believe that being a class monitor requires sacrifice, not just contribution. Anyone can contribute, but not everyone is willing to sacrifice, and in most cases, few are willing to make sacrifices for the class. However, as a class monitor, one must understand sacrifice. During middle school, I didn’t grasp this, which led to many seemingly irreparable mistakes.

Now, I’m learning how to sacrifice. Many might think I’m just obsessed with online games, but in reality, I often use gaming to cultivate a calm mindset, learn how to interact with others, and experience the feeling of sacrifice. I’ve led several CS teams, and each time I joined, the team was mostly composed of newcomers. Matches with new players became a test for the team. Veteran players often disliked playing with newcomers because it was too frustrating—they lacked experience and awareness. But I enjoyed guiding them, helping them adapt to each match, each map, and various competitive environments. I won’t go into details, but those who’ve played CS with me can probably recall my positioning and strategies.

I won’t delve too deeply into the distinctions between sacrifice and contribution tonight. That’s all for now…