A Malaysian lecturer’s experience with Chinese students
By Muhammad Aiman Asyraf Hanafi
Earlier this year, I was given the opportunity to teach at Universiti Malaya’s China campus, where I conducted foundation-level courses in the Social Sciences. At first, I had a few concerns. Would cultural and linguistic differences affect classroom interactions? Would I be able to connect with students who were raised and educated in a different system? As the weeks passed, those doubts gave way to understanding. I found that my students, though shaped by a different background, were not that different from students in Malaysia—curious, respectful, diligent, and eager to learn.
What I noticed most during my time there was how the students approached learning. Many came from academic environments that placed strong emphasis on structure, discipline, memorisation, and the ability to retain and apply factual content. Their strengths in these areas were clear. However, adjusting to a new classroom style that encouraged discussion and critical thinking required a shift they weren’t entirely used to. In class, I saw students who could answer factual questions confidently but often paused when asked to share their thoughts or interpretations. Tasks that required them to explain their reasoning or respond to open-ended prompts were less familiar—not because they couldn’t do it, but because their previous schooling had rarely asked them to.
Language added another layer to this adjustment. While all students met the English requirement for university admission, many were still working on the confidence to use it actively. I noticed some were hesitant to speak up in class—not from a lack of interest, but from fear of saying something wrong in front of others. This concern seemed to stem more from cultural expectations than from actual language ability. Even when they had something meaningful to say, they often chose to stay quiet. Over time, this could affect their grades and the extent to which they were able to benefit from class discussions.
Still, their quiet effort to improve left a strong impression on me. With consistent support, many began to move forward in small but significant ways. Some stayed after class to ask questions they didn’t feel ready to ask publicly. Others became more at ease speaking during group work. Several students submitted written work that showed stronger critical thinking and the ability to form original ideas. One student who barely spoke at first eventually submitted an essay that stood out for its depth and care in argument—a clear sign of her development over time.
This experience reminded me that students everywhere have similar goals: to learn, to grow, and to feel seen. The difficulties they face—whether with language, culture, or new expectations—are real. But with the right kind of support, they can adjust. What helps them most isn’t a complete overhaul of how we teach, but steady encouragement, patience, and attention to the small things. Making space for questions, giving thoughtful feedback, and gently inviting quieter students to speak up can go a long way.
Teaching in China taught me just as much as I was there to teach. I learned to pay closer attention, to respect cultural boundaries, and to notice what was not said. I came to see that the classroom isn’t only where academic subjects are covered—it’s also where students find ways to adapt, build trust, and gain self-assurance.
In the end, what I took away most from this experience was the reminder that difference doesn’t mean distance. My students may have come from another country, used a different language at home, and learned in ways unfamiliar to me. But their efforts, doubts, and hopes felt very familiar. And perhaps the most useful thing I could do for them was to remember that, just like students anywhere, they were doing their best to learn and belong.
The author is a Lecturer at the Department of Social Science, Centre for Foundation in Science, Universiti Malaya
