Talent Is More Important Than Interest

The class bell rang.

Now it was the parents’ turn to attend the lesson.

Chen Xiaoya stood at the podium, her hands lightly resting on the edge of the desk. She scanned the room filled with parents, her face wearing a professional yet gentle smile.

“Good evening, everyone. Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules to come to Guangba today. I’m Chen Xiaoya, the homeroom teacher of Class 8.”

Sparse applause broke out at first, but soon grew warm and enthusiastic.

The parents were being polite, their eyes a mixture of scrutiny and hope.

“The reason I’ve called this meeting is to discuss the G2 division between Arts and Sciences.”

Without wasting time on small talk, Chen Xiaoya switched on the projector. The screen immediately displayed the title: “Explanation on Arts and Sciences Division.”

“The division between Arts and Sciences affects not only your child’s studies over the next two years but also directly impacts their final exams and choice of major.

This isn’t a decision for the student alone, nor is it something the school can decide unilaterally. It requires the joint participation of three parties — the student, the parents, and the school.”

Her tone was steady, measured, and calm, instantly bringing a serious atmosphere to the classroom.

“I know many parents and students are struggling with one question: which matters more — interest or talent?”

She paused briefly, her gaze sharply catching the fleeting nods of agreement on several parents’ faces.

The G2 Arts and Sciences division is crucial. It’s not just the student’s choice; it also needs parental involvement and support.

Most importantly, it’s to avoid situations where decisions are made unilaterally without consultation.

“If your child has both interest and talent, congratulations — there’s no need to hesitate. Let the child decide. But in most cases, the two don’t align.”

Chen Xiaoya clicked the remote, and a slide appeared showing two columns of comparative data.

“For example, there’s a student, let’s call him Student A, who is deeply fascinated by physics and full of curiosity about physical phenomena — which is great.

But his physics grades have hovered around the passing line since last semester.

On the other hand, his history and politics scores consistently rank near the top of the class.”

Her words were like a stone dropped into a calm lake, stirring subtle ripples among the parents.

“As a teacher, I would advise this student to choose the Arts stream.”

No sooner had she finished than a woman with big wavy hair in the back row raised her hand. Without waiting to be called on, she stood up eagerly and spoke loudly:

“Ms. Chen, I don’t quite agree. Interest is the best teacher! My child loves physics, and I believe the low scores are only temporary. With interest comes motivation, and with effort, they’ll definitely catch up!”

As soon as she finished, several parents nearby nodded in agreement.

Chen Xiaoya’s expression flickered briefly — the Student A in the data was this very parent’s child.

But her professional demeanor quickly returned, and she smiled again.

She even gave the mother an approving nod:

“What you said is very reasonable. Interest is indeed the greatest internal drive for learning. I completely agree with that.”

The woman with the big waves looked a bit proud.

“But!”

Chen Xiaoya’s tone shifted, her gaze sharpening.

“We are facing the final exam, a selection process judged solely by scores.

In the exam hall, no one will ask your child what their interests are; the graders only look at the right or wrong answers on the test paper.

Passion cannot be directly converted into scores, but scores can determine what major they study.”

A parent stood up and said,

“I think what the teacher said makes a lot of sense.

It’s like me having a strong interest in sprinting, but my best 100-meter time is twenty seconds.

If I insist on pinning all my hopes on competing in the Olympics, I don’t think that’s realistic.”

The entire class fell silent for a moment, then someone couldn’t help but let out a light chuckle.

The mother with the big wavy hair, who had just been so smug, now looked pale and embarrassed as she sat back down.

“Choosing the humanities isn’t about killing one’s interests; it’s about picking a safer path with better odds of success,”

Chen Xiaoya’s voice softened again.

“An interest in physics can be nurtured as a lifelong hobby.

But at the critical crossroads of deciding the future, what we need to do is help the child play to their strengths, using their sharpest spear to break through the strongest fortress.”

Lin Mo sat quietly in his seat, focusing intently on Chen Xiaoya’s explanation.

In his past life, Chen Xiaoya had said much the same.

Only now, with a changed mindset, he truly realized how heartfelt her words were.

At least she genuinely hoped students could make the right choices.

Jiang Chengshan suddenly spoke up.

“Are you planning to choose humanities or science?”

“Science. I want to stay in Class Eight. I really like the atmosphere here; everyone is talented, and they speak so well. I really enjoy being here.”

Seeing Lin Mo’s smiling face, Jiang Chengshan thought for a moment and finally said,

“I originally planned to put Yunlu in another class during the division, so she wouldn’t find out and could stay away from you.”

Lin Mo clicked his tongue, “Then I can ask the principal to transfer her back to Class Eight.”

Hearing this, Jiang Chengshan stiffened, his fists clenched.

“I’m just saying. Don’t get so worked up. Even if you do that, I wouldn’t follow through.”

Lin Mo really wouldn’t.

If it was just about class divisions, and Jiang Yunlu no longer liked him, that would simply mean people have different paths.

With the matter of dividing humanities and science classes settled, it was time to hand out the report cards.

“Lin Mo, can you help me distribute these report cards?” Chen Xiaoya asked.

“Sure, Teacher.” Lin Mo stood up and took the report cards, handing them out.

Even when parents sat in the seats, Lin Mo could accurately match the seat to the name and deliver the report cards correctly.

These report cards included all official exam results from Grade 1 up to now.

It was quite a torture.

Most parents could clearly see the ups and downs of their child’s performance.

Each report also showed the child’s ranking within the class for every exam.

Lin Mo casually placed his own report card on the desk.

Jiang Chengshan looked at his daughter’s report card, which showed her consistently ranking in the top ten, and finally felt relieved.

Although Jiang Yunlu could still attend the sports school through her athlete status.

But he really couldn’t bear the thought of his own daughter becoming an athlete.

He glanced at Lin Mo’s report card beside him. Wow, from the very first exam, she had been ranked first in the entire class.

The report card didn’t show rankings for the whole grade, otherwise Jiang Chengshan would have seen that except for the first exam where she was second in the entire grade, Lin Mo had taken first place every time after that.

Of course, Jiang Chengshan was well aware of this—after all, he had long had access to Lin Mo’s records.

Next came the moment when Chen Xiaoya was about to hand out the awards.

With fifty students in the class, more than half of them were going to receive prizes.