Gaokao: The exam that shapes the lives of millions of Chinese students

Gaokao: The exam that shapes the lives of millions of Chinese students
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Every June, roughly 13 million young people in China sit down at the same time to take the same test. They have been preparing for it, in many cases, since primary school. Their families have rearranged their lives around it.

Some have moved cities to be closer to better schools and others have given up hobbies, social lives, and sleep. For two days, everything stops - and the gaokao begins.

The gaokao, China's national university entrance exam, is one of the most consequential tests in the world. A single score determines which university a student can attend, and in a country where the name of your university still shapes how employers, relatives, and society at large see you, the stakes are almost impossible to overstate. It is not just a test: it is a tool that shapes families, careers, and the nation itself, touching on themes of meritocracy, the tension between equality and advantage, and the state's reliance on education to reinforce its own legitimacy.

Declining numbers and shifting demographics

This year, 12.9 million students sat the gaokao - the second consecutive year the number has declined. The fall partly shows China's shifting demographics, with a smaller generation of young people coming through the school system.

Historical roots of competitive exams

To understand why the gaokao matters so deeply, you have to understand where it came from. China has a tradition of competitive examination stretching back more than a thousand years - the imperial civil service exam that once determined who could serve the emperor and, therefore, who could rise in society. The enduring belief that knowledge can alter one's destiny has persisted for centuries. When Chinese parents push their children to study harder, they are drawing on a very deep well of cultural memory.

A chance at social mobility

For students from poorer families (especially those from rural areas), the gaokao has long represented something genuinely meaningful, a chance to compete on equal terms. A student from a rural background who does well in the gaokao can gain admission to a prestigious university, significantly improving their prospects for future employment and social status. In a country where connections, geography and family wealth still shape opportunities in countless informal ways, the gaokao is one arena where none of that is supposed to matter. Only the score counts.

The mental toll of preparation

The pressure the exam creates is also real and well documented. Studies have found that gaokao students experience anxiety at a rate of 34%, depression at 28% and sleep disorders at 23% - figures that have risen over time. The two years leading up to the exam, known as the preparation period, are often described by students as the most intense of their lives - a sustained narrowing of existence to a single goal. Friendships, interests, and mental health all take a back seat. Dancers, painters, musicians, and others with creative aspirations frequently delay or abandon those paths entirely because of the demands of high-stakes test preparation.

The waning promise of the gaokao

And yet, for all the pressure it creates, the gaokao's promise is losing some of its lustre. University degrees have lost value in China as higher education has expanded dramatically - nearly everyone can now attend some form of college. Getting into a university is no longer the achievement it once was. Getting into the right university still matters enormously, but even a degree from a top institution no longer guarantees employment in a job market where competition is fierce and youth unemployment has been stubbornly high. In 2026, 3.72 million applicants competed for just 38,100 civil service positions as graduates increasingly turned to government jobs as a source of stability in an uncertain economy.

A reflection of society

What the gaokao ultimately shows is something deep about how Chinese society thinks about fairness, opportunity, and the relationship between effort and reward. It is fair to say that it’s the closest thing China has to a universal promise - that if you work hard enough, the test will not lie.

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