Nationwide premiere! Shi Wusun, a “Good Person of China” from our city, makes his debut on CCTV!

Silent nourishment

There is a way to show love.

He repeatedly and politely declined transfers.

Dedicated to mountain-area education for over 40 years

Like a star in the dark night

Even the faintest glimmer of light

We must also light up the bright dreams of children in mountainous areas.

He is from Lichuan County, Fuzhou City, Jiangxi Province.

A retired elementary school teacher from Hualian Village, Huashan Town.

Shi Wusun

Also a “Good Person of China” for the second quarter of 2022.

Sow the seeds of “good people” through concrete actions,

Let boundless love take root and blossom in this world.

Special Program: “Good People of China”

It will be at 8:37 PM on December 27 (today).

At the China Media Group

The Social and Legal Channel (CCTV-12) has been unveiled.

Shi Wusun was among the 605 “Good People of China” recognized nationwide in 2022.

Standing out and successfully selected as a key release candidate.

Will appear on the show and present to the entire nation.

Tell your own story

Before the show begins

Let’s start with a few short stories.

Learn about “Good Person of China” Shi Wusun.

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For more than forty years, the path he has walked most often is that winding mountain trail; for forty years, the people he has cared for most are those lovely children of the mountains; and for forty years, the work to which he has devoted himself most is teaching at that humble three-foot‑high lectern in a remote mountain village. Over four decades, he has been like an old steed, quietly holding fast in the deep mountains more than thirty kilometers from the county seat, nurturing young sprouts with the love of a teacher, melting away poverty, transforming the mountains, and reaping a sense of fulfillment.

　　In July 1979, after graduating from high school at the age of 18, Shi Wusun was forced to reluctantly give up the opportunity to pursue higher education at a university due to his family’s poverty. At the time, he faced numerous options: the Huashan Reclamation Farm offered him several paths, including enlisting in the military and serving as an intern doctor at the farm’s hospital. Yet, witnessing the plight of his hometown, Makeng Village—nestled deep in the mountains, cut off by poor transportation, and where many school-age children could not attend school because of the difficulty of reaching the outside world—he made a decision that surprised his relatives and friends. He volunteered to return to his native village and set up a makeshift school in an old warehouse belonging to the production team, becoming an unsung private‑sector teacher. With no desks or chairs, he asked students to bring their own; lacking a blackboard and chalk, he borrowed them on credit from local merchants. The production team paid him only 300 yuan per year, but Shi Wusun said, “It doesn’t matter if the pay is low—as long as the children can go to school.” And so, the Makeng Village teaching station, with one teacher and one classroom, was established.

To ensure that more children could attend school, Shi Wusun promptly established three grade levels. He adopted a multi‑grade classroom model, teaching several classes simultaneously by himself. With a teaching station set up right outside farmers’ homes, parents’ enthusiasm for sending their children to school soared to unprecedented heights—yet Shi Wusun’s workload grew ever heavier. Working in shifts across first, second, and third grades, the students might get a break, but he had to keep going, moving from one class to the next in an endless relay, standing all day long. Through cold winters and sweltering summers, he steadily depleted his physical strength and drained his energy; overwork even caused him to faint repeatedly at the lectern. Yet each time, upon regaining consciousness and meeting the eager, knowledge‑hungry eyes of his students, he resolutely returned to the podium. On one occasion, he suddenly developed a high fever late at night that refused to subside; by morning, he was still dazed and weak. His parents and siblings urged him to seek medical care and wait until the fever broke before returning to school. But he replied, “At the village‑level primary school, every position is filled—there are no spare teachers. If I don’t go, the children will have to stop attending classes, and that simply won’t do.” Stubbornly refusing to go to the hospital, he headed straight for school.

　　The spring breeze of reform and opening-up swept across the land, and Maqinkeng Village, where Shi Wusun lived, was abuzz with excitement. A former high school classmate invited him to venture out into the wider world, while his family urged him: “You’re just a private‑sector teacher now—any day you could be laid off, and your income is meager. Why cling so stubbornly to this little tree in these remote mountains?” He politely declined his friend’s kind offer and patiently explained his reasons to his family. Devoted to teaching as if it were his very life, Shi Wusun resolutely chose to remain in the mountains, continuing to be the “king of the children.”


 

In 1995, through diligent self-study, Shi Wusun gained admission to Nancheng Normal School. After graduating, already a formally appointed teacher, he could have easily left the mountains—but instead of seeking opportunities elsewhere, he voluntarily requested to return to teach at the humble primary school in Makeng Village, nestled deep in the mountains. More than ten years have passed in the blink of an eye. During that time, his outstanding teaching earned him numerous chances to transfer to township or county‑level schools. Wasn’t it natural for Shi Wusun to long for a better environment beyond the mountains? Yet the children back home simply couldn’t do without him, and the villagers were loath to see him go. A bond between teacher and students had grown too strong to break. Time and again, he turned down offers to leave the mountains, steadfastly holding fast to his commitment.

　　Because he runs the school right at his doorstep, Shi Wusun’s home has long served as a “branch campus” of the village primary school. After classes, many students don’t go straight home; instead, they flock to Teacher Shi’s house—some to play and chat, others to do their homework, and still others to ask for extra tutoring. Shi Wusun never grows tired of them, always responding promptly to every request. The tables and benches in his home become their desks and stools; when night falls, they turn on the electric light, and when they’re thirsty, they drink boiled water. It feels just like being at home, where they can relax and do as they please, enveloped in a warm, welcoming atmosphere. Once, several days into the new term, he didn’t see the lively figure of a student named Zeng Qin. Alarmed, he inquired and learned that the child couldn’t afford the tuition and was thinking of dropping out. Urged by concern, Shi Wusun went straight to the family’s home, brought the child back to school, and even paid the tuition on her behalf. Over the past forty years, he has lost count of how many children he has helped pay or advance their fees, making their dream of going to school come true. As the parents put it, “With a teacher like Mr. Shi at our school, these mountain kids must have been blessed in a past life!”



  In 2007, driven by work requirements, Shi Wusun took up a teaching post at Hualian Primary School, another even more remote mountain school just across the hill from MaKeng Village. As the school’s only boarding teacher, he embodied the spirit of “home and school as one,” caring for and managing the school with the same dedication he would give to his own home. When the school’s roof leaked, he climbed up to inspect and fix it; when desks and benches broke, he donned his carpenter’s apron; when the wiring shorted out, he stepped into the role of electrician; and whenever heavy rain flooded the classrooms, he became the handyman, mending the damage. Once, a colleague carelessly tossed an old, worn-out electric fan into the trash. Upon hearing this, Shi Wusun quietly slipped back to retrieve it. After several hours of repair, the fan was once again whirring away. His fellow teachers watched with concern, sometimes offering to help or urging him to call in professionals. But he would reply: “At the village-level primary school, we have few students and limited funds, yet there are so many needs. We must save wherever possible—under no circumstances should we add to the burden of the students’ parents.”