大学同学从美国通过邮件发过来一篇当地媒体关于中国77年高考的文章，其中有这么一段：

A pent-up reservoir of talent and ambition was released as 5.7 million people took the two-day exam in November and December 1977, in what may have been the most competitive scholastic test in modern Chinese history.
   The 4.7 percent of test-takers who won admission to universities — 273,000 people — became known as the class of ’77, widely regarded in China as the best and brightest of their time. By comparison, 58 percent of the nine million exam-takers in 2007 won admission to universities, as educational opportunities have greatly expanded.
   同学说没想到我们属于那幸运的4.7％呵！

今天在网上读到下面这篇纪念高考恢复三十周年的真实故事，更加感到我们是多么幸运的一群。要知道，在那当年落榜的95.3％的人群中，有多少人像文章中的“小瑛子”那样与高考擦身而过，走了一条完全不同的人生道路。

小瑛子的故事 - 纪念文革后恢复高考三十周年         2008-02-11 10:53:30

春节的欢庆会上，南加州知青协会出版了他们的第十期会刊，里面全文登载了我的文章《小瑛子的故事》，大家说，吃着大鱼大肉，嚼着美味佳肴，想着小瑛子的故事，心里真是别有一份说不出的滋味啊。大家都是当年的知青，我们感叹命运的蹉跎，人生的起伏，更会珍惜今天的幸福生活，珍惜大家在一起的好日子。让我们为无数的小瑛子们祝福，祝他们过上好日子，有个新生活。仅以此文献给我当年高考落榜的同伴们。

（一）

光阴似箭，日月如梭，1977年文革后恢复高考一眨眼竟然过去了整整三十个年头了。我永远不会忘记三十年前那个风雪交加的夜晚，我们七八个知识青年迎风冒雪，星夜赶路，翻山赶考的情景…… 

那是1977年的冬天，天格外的冷。在我们青年点当中，有一个瘦小俊俏的女孩子叫小瑛子。小瑛子自幼聪颖，在学校时是个品学兼优的好学生。她的家境不好，父亲是个搬运工人，有一次从七八米高的跳板上摔下来造成了下肢瘫痪，常年只能躺在床上。她妈妈从街道上拿一些纸盒子回家做，赚一些钱，一家人的生活非常艰苦。为了能让她的哥哥留在城里照顾家，十五岁的小瑛子自己申请提前下了乡。一年，两年，已经整整三年了，同时下乡的很多同学都已经通过走关系或者送礼离开了农村，只有可怜的小瑛子无依无靠，她家里没钱又没有关系，只好继续留在村里干活。别看她的个子小，可干农活又快又好，从不惜力。 “穷人的孩子早当家”真是一点都不假，知青点的生活艰苦，别人生不着火的煤她能生着，别人点个火要好多柴火，可是小瑛子用三块劈柴就能把煤点燃。每次轮到小瑛子做饭准是个改善伙食的日子。同样的开销，小瑛子能把素菜变成荤菜，同样的粮食，小瑛子能把馒头蒸得大大的，把贴饼子做得香香的。知青点的每一个人都把小瑛子看成是自己的小妹妹，艰苦生活中的开心果。                                          

高考的消息像一阵春风让苦闷已久的小瑛子的脸上第一次有了笑容。她相信自己的能力，大家也都坚信凭小瑛子的实力，这回一定能考上大学回城，回城照顾她瘫在床上的爸爸，和受苦受难的妈妈。高考的前一天我们收工回到住地吃完晚饭已经很晚了，这时天下起了雪，我们几个参加高考的知青怕夜长梦多，决定立刻下山奔往四十里以外的公社考场。 

我们出门一看，天已经黑得伸手不见五指。因为风大雪大，我们几个人拿起一条长绳子，在每个人的身上打一个结，把大家拴在一起，手挽着手，毅然地出了门。北方冬天的夜晚，寒冷刺骨，狂风呼叫，巴掌大的雪片子迎面扑来，硬往脖子里和袖子里灌，一会儿就把人打个透心儿凉。出村不久我就发现小瑛子走路一拐一拐的，上前一看才发现小瑛子因为白天干活没有雨鞋所以她的棉鞋都是湿的，她也没有手套，所以很快地就冻得手脚冰凉麻木了，我赶忙脱下自己的手套逼着小瑛子带上，又拿一块干布包在她那冻僵的脚上。四十里的山路我们每一个人不知道摔了多少个跟头，常常是一个人摔倒，就会带倒一大片，爬起来又摔倒，但是没有人叫苦，没有人掉队，更没有人退缩。因为我们都知道参加高考是我们唯一的希望。怀里揣着这个希望，就像有一颗扑不灭的火种在我们的心中燃烧，在激励着我们，使我们格外的坚强。  

我们翻过了铺满大石块的山丘，走过了收获完了的高粱地，一会儿沿着崎岖的小路，一会儿越过砂石铺成的土路。一座又一座的大山被我们远远地甩在了身后。我个子大，身体好，都感到了极度的疲劳和饥饿，再看看小瑛子，帽子早就摔没了，平日里挺有神的两只大眼睛也失去了光芒，瘦瘦的小脸上是青一块紫一块，弱小的身体一步三晃像是风一吹就能摔倒似的。刚出村时还能听到小瑛子爽朗的笑声，不断地给大家鼓劲儿，到后来她也只有靠着那根绳子拉着走了。就这样，我们几个人，凭着年轻人的活力，借着充满希望的意志，艰难地走完了那四十里山路，于佛晓时分进了公社大院，来到了考试的小学校。 

没有人戴手表，也不知道是几点钟了，一群累瘫了的年轻人在经过长途跋涉的极度疲劳和到达考场的高度兴奋后很快就倒在学校门口的水泥地上昏昏地睡过去了。其实这最后的半里多地是我们跑着过来的。当时每个人都是汗流浃背，身上的棉袄棉裤都湿了。开始因为兴奋而不觉得什么，可是睡下以后，湿漉漉的全身立刻转为冰凉，当我们早上被喧闹的人声吵醒时，才发现每个人全身上下都盖满了雪，身体也已经连着衣服被冻僵了。 

当我们排起队准备入场参加考试的时候， 才发现一声不吭的小瑛子病倒了。一路的连奔带跑，一夜的风雪交加，饥寒交迫，使这个年小体弱但意志坚强，斗志旺盛的小姑娘再也支撑不住了。她紧闭着双眼，脸色发青，浑身烧得发烫，身体像打摆子一样颤抖，却死也不肯去医院。我们几个人扶着她坚持了一会儿，就在要走进考场的那一瞬间，小瑛子晕倒了。大家慌作一团不知所措，考场的医生立刻叫来了救护车，准备把她送往医院。小瑛子醒来后双腿扑通一声跪在了地上，两只手死死地扣住教室的门框不放，两行泪水滚滚而下。 

为了让队里同意她参加这次高考，她每天专检重活干，别人休息她不休息，别人每顿吃八两，她只吃三两，别人回家还可以改善一下伙食，要一些零花钱，可是小瑛子她没有后援，她一切只能靠自己。为了参加这次大学考试，小瑛子她拼了。她怎能就这样放弃掉她人生中唯一的一次回城机会呢？就在工作人员将小瑛子带离考场时，这个坚强的姑娘发出了一声惨叫。那绝望的哭声惊天动地，直窜云霄，至今都还回荡在我的耳边。那惨叫声仿佛是在向世界控诉她凄惨的遭遇和向人们诉说她无奈的人生，那凄厉的哭泣声又好像是她在向命运妥协，像是她在告诉我们----她认命了！那惨白的面容仿佛预示着她那悲惨的人生已经开始，更使我终生难忘。小瑛子后来病情加重，从大叶性肺炎到类风湿性心脏病，全身浮肿，几近瘫痪，因白血球太低又引起了病毒感染，九死一生。她最终也没有上成大学，病退后在一家街道餐馆工作，现在已经下岗在家了。 

小瑛子走后，我象死去后又回到人间一样，悲愤交加，感慨万分， 一时竟无法使自己平静下来。 疯狂之中我一把抓起钢笔狠狠地扎进了自己的胳膊，鲜血喷了出来而我却没有一点知觉。仰天长叹我问自己：为什么人生的道路竟是这样的艰难，有时候不管你是如何努力地拼搏也不能够主宰自己的命运？知识青年当中有多少个小瑛子被毁掉了原本应当是美好的人生 ，又有多少个小瑛子痛不欲生， 揉着哭红的双眼， 抹着擦也擦不完的泪水。我慢慢地打开试卷，一行醒目的作文题赫然出现在眼前----“我在这战斗的一年里”！ 

面对考卷，我有太多的话要说，有太多的事要写了。目睹着六十多岁的老队长在雨中带领社员群众抢收高粱，最后积劳成疾，累死在地头；眼瞧着车把式为了保护队里的大青马不被砸死，用自己的身体挡住滑下山坡的大石头，而吐血受伤；几个女知青为了能给队里省钱，在烈日骄阳下不戴面具连续喷洒农药导致中毒性休克；小瑛子她为了参加高考所付出的一切……在这张即将决定我后半生命运的考卷上，我毫不犹豫，奋笔疾书， 一气呵成。在作文的结尾我这样写道：过去的一年是我战天斗地的一年，是我摔打成长成熟的一年，但是我希望也是我当知青的最后一年。知识青年真正战斗的地方是在学校，知识才是真正的力量。几十万年轻人留在农村是不能改变中国现状的，只有用知识的力量，才能避免老队长累死在地头，才能让车把式不必用身体去挡石头，才能使那些无辜的女孩子不在地里中毒，才能让无数的小瑛子不必几乎搭上自己的性命去争取幸福…… 

苍天有眼，大地有知，我终于以全县第一名的成绩考入了北京的名校，后来又留学到了美国。三十年来我的生活有了翻天覆地的变化，可是我从来没有忘记过村里的乡亲们，没有忘记过一起插队的知青同伴们，更没有忘记小瑛子。我把这个故事一遍又一遍的讲给我上大学的儿子和女儿，讲给很多人，就是要告诉人们，也告诉自己：我们不能忘本。那几乎毁掉整整一代人的命运、那曾经用鲜血染红的历史，不能再重演。 

…… ……  

（二） 

三十年一晃就过去了。今年深秋时分，强烈的思念驱使我回到北京去看望小瑛子，这片被掩藏在超豪华公寓巨厦阴影后边的几座平房，如同纽约麦哈顿的摩天大厦后面就是满目疮痍的贫民窟一样，这里没有阳光，破旧拥挤，臭气熏天。虽然我事先做了充分的思想准备，还是被见到的破烂不堪所震惊。侧着身子垫着脚踩着地上的几块半拉砖头跳了三跳，又穿过低矮的小房，我好不容易才在朋友的带领下进到了小瑛子的家门。小瑛子的爸爸早已经过世，她的妈妈坐在床上接待了我。这次见面，我才知道了什么叫“苍老体弱”，差点我就脱口而出叫她 “老奶奶” 了。小瑛子妈妈的气色到还是不错，她拉着我的手一阵子问寒问暖，说，“小瑛子开办了自己的买卖，每天忙得很呢。”  

在离家不太远的北京火车站我找到了小瑛子的买卖摊位。一辆又大又旧的平板车上装满了几百个大大的天津麻花。小瑛子身穿一件褪了色的红秋衣外加一件大黑棉袄，她胸前有几个破洞和一块块的油渍，腰间系着一块围裙正忙着吆喝生意。 只见她那当年瘦小透红的脸颊如今已经变成了一张紫铜大脸，几道刀刻般的皱纹深深地嵌在额头，瘦弱的身体如今倒是变得十分结实强壮，花白的头发似乎刚刚染过，显出了当下时兴的颜色。 要不是事先知道，我绝对不敢想象这就是我记忆中的小瑛子。  

北京火车站人山人海，过路的人潮川流不息。麻花东西虽好，分量足味道香，但是由于看上去不大卫生不够档次，很少有人问津，只是偶尔有几个外地的民工停下来买几个当干粮。我知道小瑛子每天在这里做生意，最大的困难不是冬天的寒冷和夏天的炎热，也不是刮风下雨造成的损失和地痞流氓的捣乱，她最大的麻烦是那些个工商局的“大盖帽”，每次“大盖帽”一来，做小买卖的人群就一哄而散。小瑛子的作动只要稍慢一步，那结果就往往是一车大麻花被洗劫一空----全部没收了。  

不知怎的，我有点茫然不知所措，我退却了。我不敢走上前去见小瑛子， 甚至不敢过去和她打个招呼。我怕惊到这个还不满五十岁的女人，我更怕因为我的到来而打乱小瑛子她艰辛而平静的生活。站得远远地，我给小瑛子拍了一张照片。我知道会有人不满意她的形象，小瑛子确实不是什么影艺明星，她只是我们身边的一位实实在在的普通劳动者呀。我请随同前往的朋友上前买了一百个大麻花， 看着小瑛子忙活的那股高兴劲，我的心里得到了一丝安慰。  

当天晚上我在去外地的途中接到了小瑛子打来的电话。很显然她已经知道我去看过她了。电话里小瑛子抽泣地说到：“奥哥，我早该猜到那是你， 谁没事买一百个大麻花干什么呀？”隔了一会儿，她叹了口气继续说道：“谢谢你的帮助！我是不能和你们相比了。我这一辈子好像是一直都走在当年我们一起奔考大学那崎岖不平的山路上！我咬着牙不断地告诉自己要挺住，可是我翻过了一座山，又是一座山，好像永远没有尽头一样……”  

我这人在关键时刻被刀子剜肉都不流泪，可是就怕女人哭。 正想着怎么安慰安慰她，电话那边的小瑛子倒安慰起我来了：“奥哥，别担心我，眼见着日子就有奔头了，我们那里的拆迁工程已经开始，我们家给落实了一个三室一厅的单元房子，连那个做饭的六平方米的小厨房还给算了一间呢，奥运会完了就搬。”电话那边传来了小瑛子爽朗的笑声。  

    “你有什么话要我带给大家吗？”隔着电话，我突然激动地大声喊道。小瑛子的话音突然没有了，停了一会儿，只听见她大声而又坚定地说道：“告诉那些正在读书的后生和姑娘们，要好好地读书！你们都是些有能力，有前途的人，我祝福你们！” 我的眼眶子又一次湿润了，眼泪在打转。小瑛子的生活那么艰难， 可她还在关心着年青的一代，关注着众多的朋友，这世界怎么这么不公平啊？ ！ 

“对了，奥哥，我忘记告诉你了，我的女儿今年刚刚考上了大学， 这丫头挺争气，就在我们那间夏天漏雨，冬不挡风的小屋里高分考上了大学，真是圆了我的梦啊！她可是我们家祖祖辈辈的第一个大学生呀！”  

都说“男儿有泪不轻弹”，可此时我却怎么也忍不住了，泪水夺眶而出，噼里啪啦地撒落了一地。我为小瑛子的女儿高兴，更为小瑛子高兴，这可是一个最普通的中国人等了差不多半个世纪的梦呀！挂上了电话，我在想，虽然我从未见过她的女儿，可是我相信她一定是个好姑娘！因为她身上流着她妈妈的血，蕴含着她妈妈心底的期望。 

———————————————————————————————————————

这是大学同学从美国发来的文章：

January 6, 2008

1977 Exam Opened Escape Route Into China’s Elite

By DAVID LAGUE

BEIJING — In the autumn of 1977, as relative calm returned to China after the decade-long chaos of the Cultural Revolution, An Ping was laboring in the countryside where she had been sent, like millions of other young people from the cities, to learn from the peasants.
For two years Ms. An, an army general’s daughter, fed pigs and chickens and tended crops on a commune outside Beijing, while living in unheated dormitories and going hungry.
Though Mao had died the year before, and the radical Gang of Four, who had directed the Cultural Revolution in his name, were in custody, there was little sign that Ms. An and other “sent down” urban youths would be allowed to return home.
“For the first time I felt life was not worth it,” said Ms. An, who was 19 then. “If you had asked me to go on living this kind of life, I would rather die.”
Then, in late October 1977, village authorities relayed the news that China would hold its first nationwide university entrance examination since 1965, shortly before academic pursuits were subordinated to political struggle. In acknowledgment of more than a decade of missed opportunity, candidates ranging in age from 13 to 37 were allowed to take the exam.
For Ms. An and a whole generation consigned to the countryside, it was the first chance to escape what seemed like a life sentence of tedium and hardship. A pent-up reservoir of talent and ambition was released as 5.7 million people took the two-day exam in November and December 1977, in what may have been the most competitive scholastic test in modern Chinese history.
The 4.7 percent of test-takers who won admission to universities — 273,000 people — became known as the class of ’77, widely regarded in China as the best and brightest of their time. By comparison, 58 percent of the nine million exam-takers in 2007 won admission to universities, as educational opportunities have greatly expanded.
Now, three decades later, the powerful combination of intellect and determination has taken many in this elite group to the top in politics, education, art and business. Last October, one successful applicant who had gone on to study law and economics at Peking University, Li Keqiang, was brought into the Chinese Communist Party’s decision-making Politburo Standing Committee, where he is being watched as a possible successor to President Hu Jintao or Prime Minister Wen Jiabao.
“They were a very bright bunch, and they knew it,” said Robin Munro, research director for the Hong Kong-based China Labor Bulletin, who was a British exchange student at PekingUniversity in 1978, when those freshmen arrived.
“They were the first students in 10 years let into university on merit, and they were going places.”
But back in 1977, most had only a few desperate weeks to prepare for the examination that would change their lives. The timing was especially daunting for those who had been cut off from schooling for years. All over China, students found themselves scrambling to find textbooks, seeking out former tutors and straining to recall half-forgotten formulas.
Ms. An, who now works in New York as the director of public relations for Committee of 100, a Chinese-American advocacy group, exaggerated the seriousness of a back injury and took a month’s medical leave, which she devoted to studying.
“I had to succeed,” she said.
The examination tested not only academic subjects, but also political correctness.
Han Ximing, now 50 and a Chinese literature professor at NanjingAuditUniversity, said she felt she was already well prepared to handle political questions from careful study of the party line in official newspapers in rural JiangsuProvince.
For years, the papers had been filled with criticism of Deng Xiaoping. “That was a big topic,” she said. “Actually, I had no idea why Deng was supposed to be so bad.”
In reality, it was the return of Deng, the veteran Communist leader, to a position of power in Beijing after the fall of the Gang of Four that led to the reinstatement of the annual exam, and a return to the pragmatism that would soon ignite decades of explosive economic growth.
Among those who have assumed positions of power, aside from Mr. Li of the Politburo, are Zhou Qiang, the governor of Hunan Province; Wang Yi, party secretary of the Foreign Affairs Ministry and a former ambassador to Japan; and Jin Liqun, vice president of the Asian Development Bank.
Artistic talent to emerge from the class of ’77 includes the filmmakers Zhang Yimou (“Raise the Red Lantern”) and Chen Kaige (“Farewell My Concubine”), and the writer Chen Cun.
“To be immodest, it was a phenomenal generation,” said Fan Haoyi, now 50, who earned a chance to study French at the Beijing Institute of Foreign Languages (now the BeijingForeignStudiesUniversity), a stepping stone to a business career in Africa and Europe. “We had a rage to learn.”
Many successful candidates said they felt they had been given a priceless opportunity, and they were determined to make the most of it. “We were not just gifted, we also worked really hard,” said Ms. Han, the literature professor.
Still, not everyone jumped at the chance to take the exam.
After years when privilege and opportunity were reserved for the offspring of senior officials or people with approved class backgrounds, many prospective candidates doubted that the test would be fair. Others were reluctant to give up the security of even menial jobs.
For Ms. An, the desire to escape her rural life was tempered by the conviction that taking the exam was risky. Relations between the farmers and students were complex; if she failed and was forced to return to the village, she worried that she would be given all the dirty jobs.
“They didn’t like us being there because they had to share their land,” she said. “But if we tried to leave, they would think we looked down on them.”
Li Xiyue was also part of a rural production team. The work was hard but he found it difficult to imagine any other future for himself. “By the time I was sent to the rural areas, this policy had been in place for 10 years,” said Mr. Li, 50, who won a seat at GuangxiUniversity and went on to become a writer and university lecturer. Hard farm labor “was normal,” he said. “Going to college was not normal.”
Still, he found time to study in his spare time. “The problem was, it was difficult to find interesting material,” he said. “I would even read the literature that came with farming equipment.”
When the time came to take the university entrance exam, some found it difficult to break with the commune.
Ms. Han was allowed to return home to study for the exam, but she became alarmed when she heard that she had been criticized at a commune meeting for pursuing personal ambition at the expense of the revolution.
“I ran back to the team, but my father was very angry and brought me home,” she said. “He banned all further contact with them.”
Ms. An said she had taken some French in middle school, but classes were overlaid with politics and broken up by military training and factory work. Less than confident, she went to see a former teacher who assured her that the examiners would not ask overly complicated questions.
But the teacher predicted that she would be asked why she wanted to study French, advising her to say she was doing it to serve the revolution.
“They did ask me that,” said Ms. An, who qualified to study French at the Beijing Language Institute (now the Beijing Language and CultureUniversity) and later at the Sorbonne in Paris.
When the academic year began in 1978, after the lost decade of the Cultural Revolution, it was an unusually mature freshman class that entered universities across the country. Ms. Han said that some of her fellow students at NanjingNormalUniversity were twice her age. “I had a classmate who was the father of four kids,” she said.
As they began their studies, many were fired by idealism and eagerness to achieve a fresh start for themselves and their country.
“It was a time full of dreams and hopes for the future,” Ms. Han said.
Thirty years later, many express mixed feelings about the direction events took. While acknowledging the benefits of China’s economic development, some voiced disappointment with the pace of political change. Others complained that rapid material progress had fostered greed and cynicism.
“A lot of things we could not even imagine have become reality,” Mr. Li, the writer and lecturer, said. “But it’s painful to see so much corruption, especially among high-ranking officials.”