63: Chapter 66 Late-Night Standoff! Limited Resources Theory vs. Emotional Theory

10:47 PM.

The hallway on the second floor of the Administrative Building of No. 19 Middle School was lit only by the dim, yellowish light of the emergency lamps. In the duty room, Old Zhang, the security guard, sat on his stool and yawned repeatedly.

A sliver of white light leaked from under the crack of the conference room door.

Director Su Nianwei was still working overtime.

On the tablet in front of her, three documents were open.

On the left was a comparison table of the college entrance examination rates at No. 19 Middle School over the past five years.

In the middle was a detailed breakdown of educational resource allocation among high schools of the same level in the city.

On the right was the first draft of the stationing observation report that Director Su Nianwei was writing.

The report was already half finished.

The conclusion regarding the funding aspect had already been reached: it was compliant and without issues. Little Zhou had checked that the car was not under Fang Jiming's name, but under the name of a certain Chen Jianhua; logically, there was no error there either.

Observations regarding the teaching aspect were still ongoing.

However, the incident with Su Xiaoxiao had dealt her a massive shock and exposed that No. 19 Middle School had serious, highly unconventional loopholes that had to be thoroughly investigated and strictly dealt with.

But at the moment, with only herself and two colleagues, they were severely understaffed.

It was obvious that Vice Principal Sun Yaozu of No. 19 Middle School had connections at the Education Bureau; otherwise, it would have been impossible for a student without even a household registration to be successfully enrolled in the school.

She needed time to digest and think about how to handle the problems at No. 19 Middle School.

As for her judgment regarding Fang Jiming himself, she hadn't put pen to paper on that yet.

Director Su Nianwei took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, then turned to reach for her mineral water bottle.

The bottle was empty.

She sighed and was about to get up to go to the water dispenser at the end of the hallway to refill it.

The door was pushed open.

A spicy, fresh, and fragrant scent rushed into the conference room before the person arrived.

Fang Jiming stood at the door, holding a red plastic bag.

"Are you just passing by, or are you here specifically?" Director Su Nianwei asked.

"Passing by." Fang Jiming placed the plastic bag on the conference table.

"I saw the light was on and guessed you were still working overtime, so I brought some late-night snacks."

He pulled two boxes of spicy crayfish, a portion of edamame with garlic, and two cans of iced cola from the bag.

Director Su Nianwei stared at the pile of food for three seconds.

"Teacher Fang, your salary isn't high. These weren't cheap, were they?"

"The night market stall gave me a discount."

Fang Jiming pulled up a chair, sat down, and tore open a box of crayfish himself.

"Are you eating or not? If not, I'm taking it all for myself."

Director Su Nianwei looked at his take-it-for-granted attitude and wanted to say no.

But her stomach let out a growl at that exact moment.

The echo effect in the empty conference room was exceptionally good.

Fang Jiming: ( ᵔ ᴗ ᵔ )

Director Su Nianwei opened the other box of crayfish without changing her expression.

"This doesn't mean I accept your gesture."

"You're overthinking it. I was just afraid that if you starved to death in our school, it would be hard to explain."

Director Su Nianwei put on a plastic glove and peeled the first shrimp.

The two of them ate in silence for several minutes.

Director Su Nianwei was the type of person who was very methodical even when eating crayfish.

She placed the shrimp heads and shells separately.

She folded the edge of her glove twice to prevent the juice from splashing onto her cuffs.

Fang Jiming, on the other hand, had a completely wild way of eating.

The shrimp shells piled up into a small mountain.

The red oil on his fingers spread all the way to his wrists.

When she reached the eighth shrimp, Director Su Nianwei spoke up.

"Teacher Fang, I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"The anonymous game today was indeed effective for all the students, and you handled Su Xiaoxiao's matter very well, I admit that."

Director Su Nianwei put down the shrimp in her hand and pulled out a tissue to wipe her fingers.

"But have you ever thought that if you put this much effort into Class 18 into an elite class at No. 1 High School, the effect would be multiplied?"

Fang Jiming's hand didn't stop peeling the shrimp.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you are very good at teaching."

Director Su Nianwei's tone switched from casual chatting to her most proficient mode: data analysis.

"But you are investing this ability into a class with the poorest foundation; the return rate is extremely low."

"There are thirty-eight students in this class."

"I looked through their academic records today."

"About two or three can reach the second-tier university cutoff line, and the number who can reach the first-tier cutoff is currently zero."

"Even if you teach with all your might, the final output will be extremely limited."

"The same time and energy spent on a top class at No. 1 High School could potentially send seventeen or eighteen more students into prestigious universities."

After finishing this sentence, Director Su Nianwei habitually pushed up her glasses.

She had already taken her glasses off and placed them on the table, so this gesture hit empty air, making her look slightly unnatural for a moment.

Fang Jiming threw the tail of the last shrimp into the trash pile and slowly wiped his hands with a tissue.

"Director Su, your theory has a name: Optimal Allocation of Educational Resources."

"Correct."

"In other words, resources should be concentrated where the output is highest, right?"

"Exactly."

"Then, according to your logic, a school like No. 19 Middle School shouldn't exist, and these students should just be screened out."

"Since they can't get into good universities anyway, it would be better to allocate the education budget to No. 1 High School sooner."

Director Su Nianwei's lips moved.

She didn't refute immediately because, from a purely data-driven perspective, Fang Jiming's summary was correct.

Fang Jiming threw the tissue he used to wipe his hands into the bag and leaned back in his chair.

He looked at Director Su Nianwei.

"Director Su, you sat in my classroom for two periods."

"When Su Xiaoxiao was being bullied, you saw her reaction when she got those two notes, right?"

"A girl who transferred from out of town, mocked for her accent at this school, her notebook stepped on, and everyone acts like she doesn't exist."

"She is the first to arrive at the classroom every day, and she never slacks off during duty; she scrubs the floor until not even dust in the corners remains."

Director Su Nianwei didn't speak.

"Do you know why Su Xiaoxiao doesn't make a sound or seek help even though she was abused as child labor by her stepfather for years?"

"To be able to go to school."

"Do you think this child isn't worth teaching?"

"I didn't say she wasn't worth it." Director Su Nianwei frowned.

"I was talking about the efficiency of resource allocation."

"Efficiency." Fang Jiming repeated the word.

Then he sat up straight.

"Director Su, your report is full of data, full of enrollment rates, full of input-output ratios."

"But there isn't a single 'person' in your report."

Director Su Nianwei's fingers stopped on the tabletop.

"I have thirty-eight students in that class."

"Some are abused at home, some have paralyzed fathers, some are bullied."

"You say to concentrate resources at No. 1 High School, fine, but what about these kids?"

"They aren't data; they aren't the bottom-tier percentage in an enrollment report."

"They are living people."

Fang Jiming's words were resonant and forceful.

Director Su Nianwei's back rested against the chair.

She realized that when Fang Jiming said the words "living people," her heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't the kind of jump from being scared.

It was the kind of jump from being struck by something.

The conference room was quiet for about ten seconds.

The air conditioning vent made a slight humming sound, and the crayfish shells on the table gave off a slowly cooling spicy scent.

Director Su Nianwei spoke first.

"Teacher Fang, your educational ideals are very good."

"But ideals cannot feed you; you alone cannot change the resource allocation logic of the entire education system."

"I don't intend to change the entire system."

Fang Jiming picked up a can of cola, and the pull-tab popped with a hiss.

"I only want to change my thirty-eight students."

"And then what?" Director Su Nianwei pressed.

"After you change them? If you leave No. 19 Middle School, the next homeroom teacher comes along, and everything returns to its original state."

"That's a matter for the future."

"You only look at what's right in front of you?"

"I take care of what I can see; I can't control what I can't see."

Fang Jiming took a sip of cola.

"Director Su, you've been doing educational supervision for so many years, have you ever gone to the homes of students from those underperforming schools to take a look?"

Director Su Nianwei's fingers tightened on the tissue.

She had never gone before she came here.

Her job was to look at data, write reports, and conduct evaluations in the office.

Students' homes were not within the scope of her audit.

Fang Jiming looked at her expression and didn't press further.

He put the cola on the table and stood up to clean up the trash on the table.

"Today's late-night snack doesn't count as bribery; it'll go on the school Cafeteria's account."

"The school Cafeteria's standard can't afford spicy crayfish."

"Then consider it my treat."

Fang Jiming tied up the trash bag.

"Director Su, write your report however you want."

"But please, next time, before you judge my students, go to their homes first."

"Don't sit in the office and point fingers at data."

"Your eyes are full of report indicators; my eyes are on thirty-eight living human lives."

"You don't know jack about education."

After saying this, he carried the trash bag out of the conference room.

The door closed behind him.

Director Su Nianwei sat alone in the empty conference room.

The ice on the cola can was melting, and water droplets were slowly running down the surface of the aluminum can.

The tablet on the table was lit, and the cursor on the stationing report was blinking on the blank space.

Director Su Nianwei stared at the blinking cursor for a long time.

Then she picked up the unopened can of cola, pulled the tab, and took a sip.

The bubbles exploded on the tip of her tongue, bringing a cool, stimulating sensation.

"You don't know jack about education."

Director Su Nianwei repeated this sentence in her heart.

If any other subordinate or colleague dared to speak to her like this, she could turn their performance review into a disaster on the spot.

But when Fang Jiming said this, his eyes were bright.

Director Su Nianwei bit her lip.

She took another sip of cola and slammed the can onto the table with a "pop."

"Crazy."

She said softly, not knowing if she was scolding Fang Jiming or herself.

Then she pulled the tablet over and typed a line of text in the blank space of the report.

Then she deleted it.

She typed another line.

Then she deleted it.

In the end, she didn't write anything, just locked the tablet screen and shoved it into her briefcase.

Su Nianwei: ( ᵔ ̤ ‸ ᵔ ̤ )

I'll write it tomorrow.

Her objectivity might not be sufficient for today.