The boy is 16-month-old, with a surprisingly strong desire for knowledge. According to his mother, whenever he discovers a word, he immediately asks its meaning. "So far, he has learned more than 100 Chinese characters!" said the proud mother. My parents, my husband and I listened with great admiration. My son is only two months his junior, but he has shown very little interest in any characters or books. Every day he just toddles about throwing away everything he touches, or treats a stool as a pony and pushes it to every corner of the room. What a big difference!

During a regular medical check two months ago, my son failed the first test in his life. Instead of obeying the doctor's rule to pile two blocks together, he grabbed both and refused to let them go; he stared at the doctor and remained silent when asked to say "papa" and "mama"; he tossed the doll instead of pointing at its eyes, nose, or mouth to order. He bounced up and down when asked to draw on a piece of paper. Then he became too impatient to continue the test. "You both have a good educational background," said the doctor reproachfully. "You'd better pay more attention to the upbringing of your child. Don't leave him totally to his grandparents!"

The episode made the whole family upset. "We should raise him more scientifically. A child should know more than just how to play!" said the father. "But children learn about their world through play!" I protested and was attacked as a wood-headed bookworm. The grandparents were also confused. "Why didn't the doctor test his ability at climbing stairs or pushing a hand-cart? Yangyang (my son's name) can do something that other kids of his age can't!" "But that's not required by the test!" It was all over.

I then bought a dozen books about childcare and the following days saw our whole family studying late into the night. We had hardly had a break from checking on Yangyang's mastery of most of the required skills than the little scholar gave us another panic! Yangyang should have learned to read four months previously!

Then came another round of enlightenment. I bought a series of cartoons and pressed him on the stool to teach him everything from animals to vegetables, daily commodities to vehicles. The lesson always ended up in a passionate wail of defiance. His father spent several days writing some ancient Chinese poems and sticking them on the walls of our apartment along with the Chinese characters for dining room, sofa, fridge, table and bed, all placed in their correct places. Every day we led him around encouraging him to recognize the characters. In less than a week, all these stickers were shredded by his unremitting scratching.

"You'd better educate your son yourselves, we are too tired to do that!" the grandparents finally complained. All attempts to coax him to play with educational toys proved painful and futile. The toddler just sucked his thumb and discovered his own entertainment.

We couldn't understand why he was so resistant to education, so different from the little scholar in the neighbourhood. We compared their diets and raising methods, but got nowhere. Then we began to suspect that Yangyang might have some disorder affecting his concentration or be suffering from lead poisoning. Medical checkups failed to confirm either theory.

If there had been no comparison, Yangyang would have seemed quite OK. He has turned a blind eye to our teaching and developed gradually in his own way. We never taught him to climb onto his motorcycle, but he can do it. He knows all the places for chocolates and sweets. He would laugh when overhearing us talking about him and he would imitate some of our utterances. He has learned to comb his hair and kept following us like a small tail. And he would wave goodbye to others with a big kiss.

He has his likes and dislikes and books seem to him the biggest enemy. That is our major headache. How will he survive in a world full of examinations in the future?