Living Museum of Learning

Where real moments become exhibits
← Prev Next →
怕开窗

怕开窗

A Door to the Ocean of Knowledge

On September 11, 2026, Donald is about to meet a new learner from the east for the first time.

Hongyuan Lu is a Grade 9 student who is described by his father, Qing Lu, as curious and capable of learning. He already reads philosophy, but is somewhat reserved and not naturally comfortable communicating.

When Qing first contacted Donald, he did not ask for better grades, more knowledge, or more homework. He described two hopes for his son:

“掌握思考问题的方法,而不是知识”
To learn how to think about problems, rather than simply acquire knowledge.

“开阔眼界”
To broaden his horizons.

Donald immediately replied:

“你的1和2直接震撼了我的心灵,因为这就是我教学的全部。”
Your 1 and 2 directly shook my heart, because this is exactly what my teaching is all about.

Before Hongyuan's first class, Qing sent Donald his son's WeChat contact card.

The display name immediately caught Donald's attention:

怕开窗
Afraid to open the window.

Donald could not resist.

Donald replied:

“好,不开窗,开‘门’。”
Fine. Don't open the window. Open a “door.”

Nearly twenty minutes later, Qing responded:

“开往知识海洋的大门”
Open the door leading to the ocean of knowledge.

A tiny joke about a strange WeChat name had unexpectedly become a metaphor for education.

Not a teacher pouring knowledge through a window.

Not a parent doing everything for the child.

A door.

And beyond it, an ocean.

The metaphor became even more fitting as the practical preparations for Hongyuan's first class unfolded.

Hongyuan uses a Windows computer. He has his own Gmail, phone, and WeChat. His father could easily configure everything for him. Qing is himself an accomplished programmer, with more than a decade of professional experience working with Fish, the mother of Hongyuan's childhood friend Cloud.

But Donald encouraged something different:

“最好是让孩子自己动手(建设自己的学习环境)。”
It is better to let the child do it himself — to build his own learning environment.

Installing Slack. Accepting an invitation. Figuring out an account. Remembering a password. Discovering what works and what does not. Asking for help when genuinely stuck.

None of these are merely technical chores.

They are tiny problems waiting to be explored.

Donald explained:

“而这些都是极佳的学习过程,远比做几道数学题丰富。我可以引导他一步步向前。实在卡壳的时候,请爸爸妈妈帮忙一下。”
And all of these are excellent learning experiences, much richer than doing a few math problems. I can guide him forward step by step. When he is truly stuck, his parents can help.

The first lesson, therefore, begins before the first lesson.

And today, September 11, Donald will finally meet the learner behind 怕开窗.

A new learner from the east.

A new door.

Learning

Learning does not have to begin with a textbook, a worksheet, or a predetermined answer.

It can begin with a strange username.

A joke.

A question.

A technical problem.

A conversation.

A door.

The important thing is not how much knowledge a teacher can deliver to a learner. It is whether the learner gradually becomes willing and able to open doors for himself.

For a young person who already reads philosophy but is somewhat reserved, communication itself can become part of the learning journey: explaining why he chose a name, asking a question, defending an idea, disagreeing, getting stuck, changing his mind, or following an unexpected thought.

The teacher does not need to know where every door leads.

Sometimes the teacher's job is simply to notice that there is a door.

And open it.

Then let the learner decide what lies beyond it.