It's easy to understand why college graduates in China feel dejected when they can't find jobs commensurate with their degree. After investing an enormous amount of time, effort and money in their education, they question whether their lifelong dreams will ever become a reality.
The numbers tell why. In 2003, China has about 19 million college students. The number of college graduates of 2010 will reach 6.3 million, as estimated by the Chinese Minstry of Education.
Yet of the 5.6 million college graduates in June 2008, 1.5 million were still unem-ployed in the fall, according to the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences.
If it's any consolation, China is not alone. A similar scenario is playing out in the US, where students from even marquee-name colleges and universities are unemployed or underemployed in the worst economic meltdown since the Great De-pression.
Despite the gloom, however, there is a valuable lesson that is unfortunately being given short shrift in both countries at a time when the stakes have never been higher.
What it boils down to is that education is not the same as training. Although they may overlap, they are discrete entities. Education deals fundamentally with concepts; training deals essentially with techniques. What one reveres, the other deplores.
The purpose of a college education – as opposed to college training – is to help students obtain a sense of perspective on the world and on themselves. It's the latter that includes their ethical obligations to others.
If colleges had done a better job in truly educating, rather in merely training, the current global recession might not have been so severe.
The distinction between education and training, however, is lost on today's college students. They believe that the sole reason to get a degree is to get a well-paying job. When they find out too late that they can't, they feel betrayed.
Who can blame them? Since childhood, they've been fed a steady diet of questionable value. What they should have been taught is that college is merely the most convenient place to learn how to learn. It is not a determinant. They can continue to expand their skills and knowledge throughout their lives if they've been taught how to do so.
But in China, where creativity takes a back seat to conformity, students are being shortchanged. This is particularly the case in science, technology, engineering and math, where new discoveries make content obsolete with lightning speed.
In an increasingly global economy, more than just technical skills are required. Employers want workers who are able to work with a multitude of views and cultures. They seek those who are adaptable.
This is already happening and will only intensify in the decades ahead. That's because young people will be required to change jobs readily and to retrain frequently.
A report by the McKinsey consulting firm titled “China's Looming Talent Shortage" pinpoints the alarming consequences of the country's long tradition of teaching dry and outdated knowledge.
It cited the number of college graduates who lack the proper cultural fit, language skills and ability to work in teams that multinational corporations are seeking.
Employers complain that Chinese graduates, even those with coveted MBAs, are adept at analyzing a problem but reluctant to make a decision. Their inability to become take-charge managers is seen as a distinct liability. They blame this disconnect on an educational system that has long emphasized deference to authority.
It's this realization that partly accounts for slowly building interest in a liberal arts education, with an emphasis on the humanities. Once considered impractical, it is gaining new respect because of its reputation for turning out well-rounded graduates.
No one questions the need by students and their parents to see a payoff for the sacrifices they've made for so long. But perhaps it will help them to recall the words of Albert Einstein: “Everything that can be counted does not necessarily count; everything that counts cannot necessarily be counted."