[Life] 1986, the first generation of computer university students in China

Author: JEFFI CHAO HUI WU

Time: Thursday, June 26, 2025, 1:56 PM

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[Life] 1986, the first generation of computer university students in China

In 1986, I was admitted to Shenzhen University, becoming one of the first students in the computer science program at this young university. That year, computer education nationwide was still in its infancy, with hardware scarce, textbooks lacking, and resources limited. The entire program had a strong experimental flavor, resembling an adventure exploring direction in the fog. At that time, Shenzhen had just entered the wave of reform and opening up; the city was new, the school was new, and computers were an entirely new concept. Many people had never even seen what a "computer" looked like, and society was still at the stage of using abacuses for accounting and typewriters for writing documents. We, a group of young people, were called "the future of computing," but no one truly knew what the future would look like.

At that time, finding systematic computer books in the country was almost a luxury. The library shelves were empty, and borrowing a copy of "Introduction to BASIC Programming" felt like winning a lottery. Most of the learning relied on the teacher's handwritten notes and handouts on the blackboard. In class, teachers mostly recited from the textbook, explaining commands, syntax, and processes, assigning some simple programming tasks. Many students merely copied from the textbook mechanically, strictly following the steps to input line after line of commands, never questioning why it was written that way, let alone daring to modify or innovate. However, from the very first class, I couldn't help but want to break down those codes, change each parameter, and try to make the program produce different results on the screen, even starting to attempt to write my own small programs.

I quickly realized that a computer is not a "dead machine"; it is a canvas that can be infinitely extended. As long as you dare to try, you can depict any logic and world on it. One time, the teacher assigned what seemed to be a simple programming task—printing the numbers from 1 to 100 on the screen. Most of my classmates wrote dozens of lines of loop statements following the textbook process, while I, after some thought, completed it with less than five lines of concise code. That day, the teacher held my program in silence for a long time, his eyes filled with surprise and disbelief, and finally, he simply said, "Your understanding of computers has already surpassed the scope of the classroom." It was at that moment that I first realized the unique rapport and infinite possibilities I had with this machine, which others had not felt.

I quickly became dissatisfied with the knowledge from class and began desperately searching for various materials to supplement my learning. In that era, if you wanted to learn programming, you could almost only rely on "digging." I often went to the library during my spare time, flipping through every piece of material related to computers, absorbing as much as I could understand. The second-hand book stall became my favorite place to visit, where I found a yellowed English version of "C Programming Language." The pages were filled with dense annotations written by someone else, and I spent an entire month's living expenses to buy it. At that time, I barely understood English and could only translate word by word with a dictionary. I attended classes during the day and at night, with a desk lamp, I would compare it with the dictionary; I might only understand a page in one night, but I did not give up because I knew that this was not just a book, but a key that could open the door to my future.

In 1987, the school introduced a new IBM 286 computer, which was the most advanced equipment at the time, twice as fast as the ordinary XT machines, and capable of running early graphical interfaces. However, this machine was locked in the computer room, and only teachers and graduate students had the permission to operate it; it was almost impossible for undergraduates to get close to it. I was unwilling to accept this, so every noon I would run to the computer room, pretending to organize materials, secretly watching how the graduate students debugged programs and executed different commands. Finally, one day, the administrator temporarily left the computer room, and I mustered the courage to sit down in front of the 286. My fingers trembled slightly, and my heart raced so fast I could almost hear it. I carefully typed the first line of a C program, and when the familiar "Hello, World!" appeared on the screen, the whole world fell silent. I slowly lowered my hand from the keyboard, and the excitement and thrill in my heart surged like a tide. At that moment, I clearly knew that I could control this machine, that I could create my own logic and order in this seemingly cold world.

However, reality quickly doused my enthusiasm with a bucket of cold water. In 1988, I interned at an electronics company, full of hope that I could finally apply what I had learned in practice, fantasizing about participating in some core projects or research and development. But when I arrived at the company, I discovered that their so-called "computer department" was merely using a few XT computers to input data and print reports; the entire job didn't even involve a single line of code. I made some suggestions for improvement, telling my supervisor that if an automated data management program were established, it could make the process several times more efficient. But the supervisor merely replied, "Computers are just tools; the key is whether you know how to use them." At that moment, I felt a profound shock; they could not see the infinite potential behind computers, treating them merely as machines to replace abacuses and ledgers. I suddenly realized that the true wave of the computer era in China had not yet arrived, but I was already on the road and would never turn back.

After the internship, I wrote my first complete program in my life—a student grade management system. Although its functions are simple, allowing for the input of student scores, automatic calculation of total and average scores, and even ranking by grades, when I saw the program run accurately and generate neat data tables, I truly felt for the first time that computers are not just toys for scientists, not just cold equipment in laboratories; they are a real force that can change the real world.

In 1989, I entered my junior year, and the difficulty of the courses suddenly increased. Principles of Compilation, Data Structures, and Assembly Language followed one after another, but my pace of study remained relaxed. Some companies even reached out to me, hoping I could intern and help them build small internal information systems. Just when everyone thought I would graduate smoothly, obtain a diploma that could change my fate, and then step into a high-paying job that everyone envied, I made a decision that no one could understand—I decided to forgo the graduation exams and venture abroad.

Everyone is advising me: "You’ll graduate in just two weeks, why give up?" "With a degree in computer science, your future will be much brighter." "China has just begun to develop in computing; leaving now is like destroying your own future." But I know very well in my heart that staying means being trapped by the system, means I can only move slowly along a narrow path, while the future I see is far beyond this.

In March 1989, I boarded a flight to Australia with a simple suitcase. At that time, I knew almost nothing about Australia, couldn't speak English, and didn't even know how much a bus ticket cost, but I knew that on the other side of the world lay the freedom and unknown that I wanted to pursue. In that suitcase, besides a few pieces of clothing, the most valuable items were the repeatedly read "C Programming Language" and a thick "Data Structures."

The moment the plane landed at Melbourne Airport, I stood on an unfamiliar street, everything around me was new, the air mixed with unfamiliar scents, and there was not much excitement in my heart, only a clear sense of bewilderment and an unwavering determination to move forward. I knew this was a journey with no turning back.

I did not obtain a graduation certificate in computer science, but what those years left me is a more precious wealth: the ability to think independently, the courage to question authority, and the determination to explore the unknown world. More than thirty years have passed, and those who once questioned me for "ruining my future" may have long faded from this industry, while I continue to support one groundbreaking system after another with computer logic and thinking. From logistics intelligence to information structure optimization, and then to multidimensional intelligent interaction, every field bears my traces. I am not a traditional "computer professional," but I have used computers to rewrite reality.

I am a first-generation computer science student in China, but my destination has never been that diploma. This is just the beginning.

Source: http://www.australianwinner.com/AuWinner/viewtopic.php?t=696527