NEWS
President's Letter
- Publish Date：2025-10-02
From “Fake” Portfolios to the “Real” Problem
(Image credit: Kuan-Yun Chen)
Narrated by NYCU President Chi-Hung Lin
Interviewed by Yen-Shen Chen
Written by Yen-Chien Lai
Proofread by Yu-An Lu
Interviewed by Yen-Shen Chen
Written by Yen-Chien Lai
Proofread by Yu-An Lu
______
Recently, a wave of public concern swept across Taiwan after the media revealed cases of fabricated high school learning portfolios submitted in university applications. Much of the discussion has centered on how students managed to exploited the system through embellishments, strategic packaging, or even outsourcing their work. Yet, as someone working in higher education, I find myself troubled by a deeper question: Why has this generation come to see learning not as a journey of growth, but merely as a performance to be staged?
What disturbed me most was not the individual act of dishonesty, but the systemic design flaws that made fabrication appear to be a rational choice. When the news first broke, I chose to remain silent–not out of indifference, but because I needed time to reflect and to wait for a moment when meaningful dialogue could take place. Perhaps now, that moment has arrive.
Let me begin with a clear conclusion: this issue cannot be reduced to the fault of individual students. It is, rather, a mirror reflecting the deeper structural problems within our current education system.
A Letter from a Parent Echoed My Unease
After the controversy emerged, I received a heartfelt letter from a parent. She described how her child, in the pursuit of a “competitive” portfolio, had spent years collecting certificates, attending endless camps, and even hiring professionals to refine her writing.
“President,” she asked, “when did my child begin to believe that education is something to be performed for others?”
Her question lingered with me for a long time. The portfolio system, as originally envisioned by Taiwan’s education experts, was meant to help students reflect on and better understand themselves. In practice, however, it has morphed into a vast exercise in packaging and marketing.
Sincerity has become a liability. Performance and exaggeration have turned into the price of admission.
When Honesty Becomes a Weakness, What’s Left of Education?
One student confided, “If I don’t embellish or dress up my experience, I’ll lose before the race even begins.”
But education was never about winning—it has always been about growing.
Today, many cram schools and admissions consultants coach students on how to refine their resumes and polish their statements. Yet rarely do they ask, “Who do you want to become?” Such training may boost a student’s chances of admission, but it does little to prepare them for life.
This is precisely the dilemma that NYCU has been striving to address in recent years. In both admissions and teaching, we have made significant shifts: we are not just interested in what you have done, but in why you did it. We are not only evaluating excellence—we want to know whether you are ready to embark on a journey of deep learning.
Take our Arete Honors Program (百川學士學位學程), for example. It breaks away from traditional departmental boundaries and offer an interdisciplinary, self-directed path. We seek students with independent learning abilities and critical thinking skills, empowering them to design their own academic and life trajectories.
In 2023, NYCU also launched Taiwan’s first Electronics and Photonics Post-undergraduate Second Degree Program (學士後電子與光子學士學位學程). This pioneering track was designed for non-STEM graduates from fields such as medicine, law enforcement, music, foreign languages, and finance. By June 2025, over 40 students had completed the program. About half were admitted into graduate programs in electronics, electrical engineering, or physics; the other half embarked on careers in the semiconductor industry. From physicians to musicians, they now walk with confidence into clean rooms and fabs.
This isn’t just institutional innovation—it’s a reaffirmation of our core belief in education: that universities should empower students to define their own learning, rather than simply follow a prescribed path.
Universities Should Not Be Filters of Elimination, but Soil for Potential
I often say that University admissions should not be about identifying the “best” students, but about finding those most willing to grow.
At NYCU, we have introduced guided interview questions in some departments, encouraging applicants to reflect on mistakes and turning points rather than just showcasing trophies or rankings. We want to know how students respond to setbacks, how they grapple with difficult choices, and what they learn from failure.
Recently, a wave of public concern swept across Taiwan after the media revealed cases of fabricated high school learning portfolios submitted in university applications. Much of the discussion has centered on how students managed to exploited the system through embellishments, strategic packaging, or even outsourcing their work. Yet, as someone working in higher education, I find myself troubled by a deeper question: Why has this generation come to see learning not as a journey of growth, but merely as a performance to be staged?
What disturbed me most was not the individual act of dishonesty, but the systemic design flaws that made fabrication appear to be a rational choice. When the news first broke, I chose to remain silent–not out of indifference, but because I needed time to reflect and to wait for a moment when meaningful dialogue could take place. Perhaps now, that moment has arrive.
Let me begin with a clear conclusion: this issue cannot be reduced to the fault of individual students. It is, rather, a mirror reflecting the deeper structural problems within our current education system.
A Letter from a Parent Echoed My Unease
After the controversy emerged, I received a heartfelt letter from a parent. She described how her child, in the pursuit of a “competitive” portfolio, had spent years collecting certificates, attending endless camps, and even hiring professionals to refine her writing.
“President,” she asked, “when did my child begin to believe that education is something to be performed for others?”
Her question lingered with me for a long time. The portfolio system, as originally envisioned by Taiwan’s education experts, was meant to help students reflect on and better understand themselves. In practice, however, it has morphed into a vast exercise in packaging and marketing.
Sincerity has become a liability. Performance and exaggeration have turned into the price of admission.
When Honesty Becomes a Weakness, What’s Left of Education?
One student confided, “If I don’t embellish or dress up my experience, I’ll lose before the race even begins.”
But education was never about winning—it has always been about growing.
Today, many cram schools and admissions consultants coach students on how to refine their resumes and polish their statements. Yet rarely do they ask, “Who do you want to become?” Such training may boost a student’s chances of admission, but it does little to prepare them for life.
This is precisely the dilemma that NYCU has been striving to address in recent years. In both admissions and teaching, we have made significant shifts: we are not just interested in what you have done, but in why you did it. We are not only evaluating excellence—we want to know whether you are ready to embark on a journey of deep learning.
Take our Arete Honors Program (百川學士學位學程), for example. It breaks away from traditional departmental boundaries and offer an interdisciplinary, self-directed path. We seek students with independent learning abilities and critical thinking skills, empowering them to design their own academic and life trajectories.
In 2023, NYCU also launched Taiwan’s first Electronics and Photonics Post-undergraduate Second Degree Program (學士後電子與光子學士學位學程). This pioneering track was designed for non-STEM graduates from fields such as medicine, law enforcement, music, foreign languages, and finance. By June 2025, over 40 students had completed the program. About half were admitted into graduate programs in electronics, electrical engineering, or physics; the other half embarked on careers in the semiconductor industry. From physicians to musicians, they now walk with confidence into clean rooms and fabs.
This isn’t just institutional innovation—it’s a reaffirmation of our core belief in education: that universities should empower students to define their own learning, rather than simply follow a prescribed path.
Universities Should Not Be Filters of Elimination, but Soil for Potential
I often say that University admissions should not be about identifying the “best” students, but about finding those most willing to grow.
At NYCU, we have introduced guided interview questions in some departments, encouraging applicants to reflect on mistakes and turning points rather than just showcasing trophies or rankings. We want to know how students respond to setbacks, how they grapple with difficult choices, and what they learn from failure.
We believe that a student’s attitude toward uncertainty is the most valuable capital for facing future challenges. The past is certain—but the future holds infinite unknowns.
We also encourage faculty to incorporate reflective writing and student-led project proposals into their courses. These approaches give students the space to define problems in their own language, at their own pace, and to take ownership of the solutions—rather than simply chase standardized answers.
Our mission is not to transform high-performing test-takers into even more efficient machines. It is to walk alongside them as they search for meaning and pursue value. That journey may not always be smooth—but it will be authentic.
High Schools Should Not Be Portfolio Factories, Nor Universities' Talent Pageants
Many high school teachers have confided that their work has become more stressful. In helping students build impressive portfolios, they often feel compelled to coach them to “do a bit of everything” and “write about everything.” The result? Superficial and fragmented learning. Teachers no longer teach; they have become admissions coaches, guiding students to construct attention-grabbing experiences for review panels.
These voices from the front lines have also prompted self-reflection within higher education:
Have our admissions criteria inadvertently pushed students in the wrong direction? Do we have the courage to revise these systems and acknowledge their shortcomings?
I have proposed that instead of requiring all students to submit learning portfolios, we should allow them to opt in—with clear thresholds to prevent this from becoming yet another arms race. At the same time, we must proactively engage in dialogue with high schools to develop a shared vision of what education should truly be.
Because genuine education helps students find their direction–with honesty.
Finding One’s Compass in a World of Uncertainty
I often ask myself: Where are we truly leading our students?
In an age of rapid AI advancement and global volatility, many of the “stable” paths we once trusted—medicine, engineering, finance—no longer offer certainty. When the world stops providing standard answers, students must learn to ask their own questions—and chart their own maps.
Universities are not just testing grounds for knowledge, but training grounds for values. We must teach students not only what to do, but why they do it. Above all, we must help them cultivate an internal compass–one that will guide them when external navigation is no longer enough.
Our Post-baccalaureate Program in Electronics and Photonics is a prime example—designed for those who choose to change careers. It reminds us: if the direction is correct, it’s never to late to begin.
A compass keeps us honest with ourselves. It gives us the courage to try, to fail, and to find our way through uncertainty. The recent portfolio scandal revealed not just student anxiety, but the disorientation of an entire system.
It is better to board a slow train that takes you where you need to go than a bullet train racing in the wrong direction. The issue is not speed—it is direction.
To all teachers, parents, and students, I say this:
- The truest learning journey is not one crafted to impress others—it is the one that belongs to you.
- If the world outside is imperfect, do we have the courage to redefine the rules of the game?
- Are we willing to move a little slower, if it means being more true to ourselves?
May we all live more authentically through the process of trial and error.
President of National Yang Ming Chiao Tung University,
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