How big is your childhood? My father once said that his fondest childhood memories were the towering mountains, the formidable pines and the tranquil seas. However, from where I grew up, the 2 square meters nook with 3 kiddie rides--one broken, one paint-peeled, and one with a coat of ash, is the only corner where any reminiscent traces of childhood would be found. The wind softly brushes the surface of the kiddie rides; like a mother wiping the dust off a baby’s cheeks, it blows off the ashes into the air. As if tickled by the touches, the kiddie rides squeaked “chi-ke, chi-ke” in the breeze. They stand in front of a supermarket--an old-fashioned supermarket with layers of discolored paint from half-hearted repairs over the years. Those ratty kiddie rides carry profound significance for China, laying bare the reality that with the rise of expectations, children are gradually losing their “childhood”.

Instead of being a paradise for children, the nook became a huddle spot for elders to chitchat and kill time. As they gather and joke with each other, wrinkled eyes glance over to the rides, perhaps recalling their own distant childhoods. “I haven’t seen children here for a long time. They used to come frequently when I first moved here ten years ago. “Only with their grandparents though, I never saw any young parents taking their kids here,” another added. For sure, the dust bunnies burring the chairs has been proofs of those forgotten monuments. Children of the past werefortunate enough to spend some time on these rides, but today’s kids are deprived of that simple joy. During my first few years in this community, festival celebration was an enjoyable highlight for children. On Halloween, every household adorns itself in bespoke attire, transforming into haunted mansions, fantastical caverns, or magical realms. In this kaleidoscope of imaginative worlds, an abundance of candies eagerly awaits little spirits to "plunder." However, with the elapse of time, these scenery eroded. Nowadays people lock their children at home, like bears in dormant states, unable to react to any external stimuli except of academic progress and promising grades. Genuine childhood happiness seems far out of reach for children in my community.

In the park near my previous home, a vibrant tapestry of youthful delight unfolded daily: oil coloring painting filling the endless summer, air mattress trampolines bouncing with the laughter of carefree souls, ringtoss games echoing with the joy of success, tanghulu hanging sweet aroma in the air, and of course, kiddie rides standing as witnesses of countless moments of innocent pleasure. As I transitioned to this new community, the stark contrast became painfully apparent. The absence of parks filled with entertainment facilities left a void where laughter once thrived. The children here are not granted the luxury of vibrant parks; instead, their days are consumed by overwhelming schedules of online courses. A three-year-old child’s mother shared her schedule for a day on the internet. At three, the child was expected to juggle reading comprehension, mathematics and English simultaneously. Children in Chinese society are burdened with increasingly higher expectations to overachieve, robbing them of the simple joys of childhood. This has been a trend in modern society: parents expect their children to excel by pressing the burden of knowledge down on their children like a colossal weight, rendering their young spines immobilized, robbed of the freedom to enjoy one of the most precious time in life--childhood.

In the past, children and their parents would pause by the kiddie rides, their smiles so radiant they seemed to meld their eyes and mouths in joyful unity. They lingered for hours of imaginative exploration, basking in the warmth of sunlight. Nowadays, people merely rush past. The strict regimen surpasses any considerations of well-being. By mid-2023, Nantong's hospitals transformed into a disheartening tableau: rows of empty sickbeds replaced by children confined to what is now labeled a "study room," but feels more like a prison chamber. These young souls, with a sling cradling their left hand and a pen gripped in their right, engage in a relentless battle against the clock, toiling into the midnight hours to conquer homework mountains that rival the vastness of Encyclopedia Britannica. Strings tethered to their left hands connect to two hefty sacks of fluid, rendering them marionettes, dancing to the tune of imposed obligations--a misguided remedy for their parents' aching hearts. Pressure, a recurring motif in the lives of modern Chinese children, has cast a desolate spell over the once vibrant realm of entertaining kiddie rides. What was once a lively haven now lies barren, and the once tangible essence of childhood has evaporated like burst bubbles.

In the pursuit of progress and achievement, we are inadvertently robbing our children enchanting prospects of joyful childhood. The kiddie rides, weathered and forgotten, bear witness to this societal shift. Let birds fly in the clear sky; let fish swim in pristine water; let kids retrieve their “childhood” before becoming a “ren” (Chinese pronunciation of the character of “person”)--let them be “child-ren”.

[1] “Ren” is the pronunciation of the Chinese character of “people”.