华裔女孩Elizabeth Zhang：在古典与当代之间书写未来
【中美创新时报2025年9月22日特别报道】（记者温友平）近期，在2025年联合国高级政治论坛可持续发展大会平行会议上，来自新英格兰地区一所私立高中四年级的华裔女孩Elizabeth Zhang，作为青年演讲者发表了题为《以社区为本的教育创新 – 简单工具也能改变世界》的精彩演讲，提出了“收音机教育- 一台收音机就是一间学校”的创新观点。由此，她成为了一位青年焦点人物。
记者了解到，提出如此创新教育观点的Elizabeth Zhang热爱阅读和写作，先后出版了《诸神的游戏》和《生命的轮回》等多部作品。曾获得美国青少年艺术与写作联盟颁发的学乐艺术与写作奖（Scholastic Art & Writing Awards）”金钥匙“与”银钥匙“奖。同时，她尤其热爱古希腊与古罗马等西方古典文学，也热衷把古典与当代相连接 – 用寓言、回忆录与主题演讲，探问“善良”“正义”“做人意味着什么”。她相信，古代的故事并未远去；只要我们愿意倾听，古典的回响仍能回应当下的困惑。这些，正是她在联合国发表演讲的底蕴。
成长地图：在多元之间寻找古典文学坐标
Elizabeth Zhang出生在加拿大，幼儿园阶段在加拿大，小学在上海接受了汉语教育，随后回到加拿大就读初中，再到美国完成完整的高中学习；其间，她还以交换生的身份在意大利维泰博度过了一整年 -这是一份典型的跨文化履历，也是一条需要反复“自我定位”的成长曲线。
她记得在上海的七年：每日用中文写日记，背诵古诗，在作文里第一次把“正义”与“善良”写成幼嫩却真挚的文字。这段中文教育，给了她对语言的敏感与对道德命题的早熟兴趣。回到加拿大后，她在英语体系中快速适应，英语阅读从冒险与奇幻起步，渐渐延伸至思想更为密集的文本。抵达美国高中，她又把眼光投向更漫长的时间轴：古希腊、古罗马与拉丁文。
在意大利的一年，是她与古典真正“短兵相接”的时光。清晨，她踏着石板路去上拉丁语课；午后，在教堂里仰头辨读古老的铭文；黄昏，则坐在咖啡馆临窗的位置，一边翻书一边记下思索；夜里，在宿舍的台灯下写下寓言、日记与片段。她说：“随便走进一间教堂，就会遇见拉丁文，那一刻，你会觉得古代从未远去”。而当她站在斗兽场中时，仿佛能听见历史正低声向她诉说过往。
但多重文化也带来身份上的拉扯。她在自述里写：“我既来自各处，又仿佛来自无处。”每当被问起“你来自哪里”，她常常不知如何在一句话里交代清楚。“没有农历新年和热茶，我是不完整的；但如果没有肉汁奶酪薯条和冰球，我也不是完整的我。”这种“合拢不全”“单列不准”的身份处境，并未把她推向虚空，反倒催生出一种独特的观察角度：把文化当作彼此照亮的镜子。
Elizabeth Zhang的兴趣并非始于“学术姿态”，而是从故事开始的。童年时，她会在读过的童话末尾加上自己的“另一种结局”；进入青春期，她的故事出现了神话结构、伦理选择，开始有了“寓言的骨架”。在美国高中九年级及 10 年级系统地学习了两年的拉丁语后， 又到了意大利，她更系统地接触拉丁文本 – 从课本到铭文，从教堂到博物馆。她说：“我惊叹于古典世界对今日生活的影响……古代的词语像是在对我说话。”
古典对她的意义不在“古”，而在“典” – 是可被拎起、使用、对照当下的价值标杆。她并不把古希腊与古罗马视为“高悬于博物馆”的标本，也不把神话当作离奇的传说；她把它们当作讨论当下伦理与共同体问题的钥匙：权力如何生成、恐惧如何维系、善良何以不足、智慧从何而来……这些都在她的创作里得到反复追问。
创作现场：从神话母题到现代寓言再到跨文化自述
Elizabeth Zhang的第一部出版作品《诸神的游戏》（The Game of the Gods）是一本面向8–12岁读者的书。表面上它是神话式的冒险，内里却是伦理抉择的练习：当凡人进入诸神的考验场，仅有善良并不能带你穿越迷宫，“唯有智慧才能照亮前行之路”。她强调，“真正的善良需要智慧的辨析与执行” – 这是古典伦理学的一条要义，也是她写给少年读者的“现代入门”。
她把这本书定位为“可共读的寓言”：父母与教师可以把其中的情景带入讨论，孩子则把逻辑与情感一起参与进去。善良不是口号，智慧也不是冷冰冰的推理，它们在共同体的经验里彼此成全。这正是古典文本常教给我们的：德行需要实践与判断，而不是标签。
之后，她的创作逾发成熟。她另外一部作品《生命的轮回》则是一则更直面人性的寓言：“孤岛、祭选、悬崖与红石”成了一个残酷而冷峻的制度图谱 – 每当有婴儿出生，便抽签推一人坠崖，名为“保持平衡”。主人公爱德华抽中“红石”后，以生命兑现了承诺，把妻儿托付给友人，并把“终止不公”的任务托付给幸存者与共同体。最终，村民识破了以恐惧维持统治的“长老神话”，砸毁了象征暴政的大锅。
这部作品荣获学乐艺术与写作奖金钥匙奖。评语强调其“古典寓言结构与现实批判锋芒的并置”。她并未借神话逃离现实，而是在神话结构里训练现实的道德肌肉：传统不是天然正当，恐惧不是统治的理由，选择需要勇气，而勇气往往被一个人的牺牲点亮。
更加让人思考的是，她根据自己一年切身留学经历的最新作品《意大利回忆录》则是一部更具有现实意义的跨文化的自我叙述。该作品书中既有语言课、教堂铭文、城市行走的细节抒写，也有她不断自问的身份焦虑与文化反思。“当我翻开课本分析凯撒，而不是孔子时，我常常觉得自己像个叛徒。”她把这种“失衡感”写成一种诚实的困惑，而非表态式的结论。正是这种诚实，使文本散发出可被共情的力量 – 跨文化并不只有成功学，也包含迷茫与自校。
在回忆录的随笔《一个骗子，这就是我》中，她引用皮科·艾耶“我不能真正称自己是……”的句式，说出对自我身份的“迟疑与不肯草率”。她承认自己“在三种文化的交汇处”并不“拥有三个家”，反而在每一处都产生疏离感。教练让大家说“来自哪里”，同学们轻松给出答案；轮到她，她只说“我现在住在宾州”，以免把对方拖入“过长的解释”。
这不是“叛逆姿态”，而是一种持续校准的诚实。她意识到，身份的叙述不等于身份的整齐，多元履历不会自动生产“更完整的自我”。但写作使她意识到：多重身份并非互斥，而是彼此照亮。当她在拉丁文与中文之间切换、在意大利记忆与上海童年之间穿梭时，新的表达就会从缝隙里长出来。
“我常常觉得，我是在不同文化之间游走的人。可是写作让我明白，也许正因为这样，我才能看到更多东西。”她在采访里说。她把“不确定性”从焦虑源变成了叙事资源。
主题合奏：正义、善良与“做人意味着什么”
纵观Elizabeth Zhang的作品，她几乎在所有叙事里都围绕几个支点旋转：正义、善良、选择、责任。她不是在抽象层面“谈道理”，而是把道理压进命运与场景 – 一颗“红石”、一道悬崖、一口被砸毁的大锅、一位长老对恐惧的操弄。她让读者在情节中“体感伦理”，而非只在字面上“知道伦理”。
“写作是我寻找答案的方式。答案不一定存在，但过程本身重要。”她在采访中强调。她在故事里练习如何忠于承诺、如何反抗暴政，如何让共同体从恐惧回到理性与连带，这些都不是“书本上的美德”，而是具体、可被辨认的行动路径。
她的作品多次在学乐艺术与写作奖（Scholastic Art & Writing Awards）中获得肯定，收获“金钥匙奖“与多项荣誉提名。“金钥匙“对她而言并非“终点”，而是一种“被看见”的确认 – 她在意大利写下的跨文化回忆录，把困惑与思考作为内容本身，仍然可以赢得理解与共鸣。
获奖带来的另一个重要变化，是让她更坚定“写作可跨越年龄与国界”的信念。她意识到：年轻写作者完全可以在古典与现实之间搭桥，在文学与公共议题之间搭桥，让故事成为通向对话的工具。
这种主题合奏，并非只表现在她的作品中，而是更彰显在她现实的生活中。在校园里，她被多位老师与同学描述为“有强烈正义感”的人 – 看见不公会站出来，尤其对女性群体所遭遇的不平感同身受。她坦言，写作并未让她“远离现实”，反而让她“更清楚地看到问题”。在故事里，人面对的是命运与神意；在现实中，人面对的是偏见、结构性障碍与沉默的围观。者都在问：你准备如何选择？
这也解释了她作品里“善良要与智慧并肩”的反复主题。善良不是一种“无条件退让”，而是与判断、规则与勇气捆绑在一起的复杂德目。她的故事没有躲开“集体如何被恐惧操弄”这样较为沉重的题，反而把它写成少年也能读懂、也能讨论的结构 – 文学是进入复杂世界的安全入口。
把古典装进当代：数字人文与传播实践
很难想象，作为一名高中四年级的学生，Elizabeth Zhang对于古典文学阅读与传承有着自己深刻理解与实践。她对“传承”的理解，绝不等同于“复述经典”。她明确谈到数字人文（Digital Humanities）思路：用现代工具对古拉丁文、古希腊文文本进行整理、标注与转化，让古代材料在当代数字环境中可被检索、学习与教学引用。
在学校层面，她参与过相关项目训练：把古典文本从线装的“沉睡状态”唤醒为“可用状态”。她把这视为“一次跨千年的握手” – “古代的声音通过数字化，能被今天的孩子、学者与普通读者听见。”这不是炫技，而是一种可及性与可传播性的伦理：让更多人以更低门槛进入古典世界。
她还形成了一个面向青少年的传播设想：搭建“现代神话”孵化空间。其核心并非替古典做“导游”，而是邀请年轻人在读懂古典之后，写出当代的寓言 – 把古老的母题转译为新的公共议题与生活情境。这种“再创作”正是传承与创新的重叠。
当被问到“你想做什么”时，她的答案并不含糊：继续在古典领域深造，进入学术道路，甚至攻读博士学位。这不是把自己关进“象牙塔”，而是为了更有底气地做“传承与创新”的长线工作。在她看来，文本学、语文学、思想史等扎实训练，是把古典与当代稳固相连的桥梁工程 – 桥要站得稳，材料就必须过硬。
她的路径规划也不止学术：学术研究 + 创意写作 + 数字传播是她想走的“三螺旋”。一端扎进古典原典，一端创造新故事，中间用技术把两端持续接通。这套路径并不常见，却符合她从小就展示的“在多元之间自如切换”的能力。
她一再强调，“古代的故事仍然能回答现代的问题”。这不是为古典辩护的修辞，而是一种教育观：古典教育并非培养“会背名句的人”，而是训练判断力、同理心与共同体意识 – 这些恰是现代社会的稀缺资源。
因此，她主张把古典纳入公共讨论，而不是仅供少数“圈内人”研读；也主张把古典转成孩子能进入的故事，让家庭与学校的对话有“共同文本”；更主张借助技术扩展古典的可见度，为不同文化背景的学习者打开入口。她的“收音机教育”倡议，正是把这种教育观推向更广的人群与更艰难的场景。
2025年，她作为联合国高级论坛的青年演讲嘉宾登台发言。那天，对参会的教育工作者与政策制定者说：“在一些社区，一台收音机就是一间学校”。 她指出，全球仍有超过17%的儿童失学；如果我们把“教育创新”单纯理解为“最新、最贵的设备”，会将最需要被覆盖的人群排除在外。她倡导一种以社区为本的解决方案：收音机教育。其优点在于无需电网与网络、成本低、可与本地电台与大学合作，可形成可持续的在地化教育支持体系。
“真正的教育创新，应以人为本、植根社区、尊重文化。”她的发言赢得了参会者的共鸣。有人评价说：“她不仅仅是一个写故事的年轻人，她还是一个思想的传播者。”
她的论断与联合国可持续发展目标（SDG4：优质教育）同频：“真正的教育创新，不是追逐最新产品，而是回应最迫切的需求。”这场演讲把她在古典叙事里练就的结构与伦理表达能力，转译为公共议题的清晰沟通。
结语：一代青年的自我命名
在各处与无处之间，一个十七岁的女孩给自己立了一根坐标：在古典与当代之间书写未来。她以故事训练判断，以语言修复断裂，以技术扩大可及，以演讲召唤关注。她把“身份的不确定”化为“叙事的可能”，把“传统的重量”翻译成“面向当下的能量”。
“真正的教育创新，应以人为本、植根社区、尊重文化。”
“善良必须和智慧结合，才是真正的力量。”
“古代的故事仍然能回答现代的问题。”
这三句话像她递出的三把钥匙：人本、智慧、通古今。她已在路上，也在以自己的方式，带着古典与现实、带着少年与成人，一起走在这条通往更远处的长路上。
题图：2025年，Elizabeth Zhang作为联合国可持续性发展高级论坛的青年演讲嘉宾登台发言。
附英文报道：
Elizabeth Zhang: Writing the Future Between the Classical and the Contemporary
Special Report by SINO-US Innovation Times, September 22, 2025 (Reporter Wen Youping)
Recently, at a parallel session of the 2025 United Nations High-Level Political Forum on Sustainable Development, Elizabeth Zhang, a Chinese American senior from a private high school in New England, delivered a youth speech titled “Community-Based Educational Innovation – How Simple Tools Can Change the World.” She introduced the idea of “Radio Education – One Radio Equals One School.” With this innovative vision, she quickly became a youth figure in the spotlight.
Reporters learned that Elizabeth, who presented such a creative educational idea, is passionate about reading and writing. She has published several works, including The Game of the Gods and The Cycle of Life. She has won Gold and Silver Key Awards from the Scholastic Art & Writing Awards. Deeply interested in Western classical literature, particularly ancient Greece and Rome, she also devotes herself to connecting the classical with the contemporary-through fables, memoirs, and keynote speeches, she explores questions of “kindness,” “justice,” and “what it means to be human.” She believes that ancient stories have not vanished; as long as we are willing to listen, the echoes of the classics can still respond to today’s confusions. This is precisely the foundation behind her speech at the United Nations.
A Map of Growth: Finding Classical Anchors Amid Diversity
Elizabeth was born in Canada. She attended kindergarten there, received primary education in Shanghai in Chinese, returned to Canada for middle school, and then moved to the United States to complete high school. In between, she spent a full year in Viterbo, Italy, as an exchange student. This is a typical cross-cultural résumé and a growth trajectory that requires constant self-redefinition.
She remembers her seven years in Shanghai: writing daily journals in Chinese, memorizing classical poems, and penning her first clumsy but sincere essays about “justice” and “kindness.” This early Chinese education gave her both sensitivity to language and a precocious interest in moral questions. Back in Canada, she quickly adapted to the English-language system, starting with adventure and fantasy reading and gradually extending to denser, more philosophical texts. Upon reaching high school in the U.S., she turned her attention to longer timelines: ancient Greece, Rome, and Latin.
Her year in Italy was her true immersion into the classics. Mornings, she walked cobblestone streets to Latin class; afternoons, she craned her neck in churches to decipher ancient inscriptions; evenings, she sat by caf√© windows reading and taking notes; at night, she wrote fables and journals under her dorm lamp. “In any church, you’d encounter Latin. In that moment, you realize antiquity has never left,” she said. Standing in the Colosseum, she felt as if history whispered its stories to her.
Yet multiple cultures also created tensions of identity. In her memoir she writes: “I come from everywhere, yet it often feels like I come from nowhere.” When asked “Where are you from?” she rarely has a neat answer. “Without Lunar New Year and hot tea, I am incomplete; but without poutine and ice hockey, I am also incomplete.” This unsettled position did not push her into emptiness but instead nurtured a unique perspective: seeing cultures as mirrors that illuminate one another.
Her passion began not in “academic postures” but in stories. As a child, she would write her own alternate endings to fairy tales. By adolescence, her stories carried mythic structures and ethical choices, forming the “skeleton of fables.” After two years of systematic Latin study in grades 9 and 10, and then Italy, she encountered Latin texts in depth-from textbooks to inscriptions, from churches to museums. “I was amazed by how the classical world still shapes life today‚Ķ the words of antiquity felt like they were speaking directly to me,” she said.
For her, the value of the classics lies not in being “ancient” but in being “canonical”-standards to be picked up, used, and compared with present realities. She doesn’t view Greece and Rome as museum specimens, nor myths as strange tales, but as keys to modern ethical and communal questions: How does power arise? How does fear sustain? Why is kindness not enough? Where does wisdom come from? These questions recur throughout her writing.
The Creative Scene: From Mythic Motifs to Modern Fables to Cross-Cultural Memoirs
Elizabeth’s first published work, The Game of the Gods, targeted readers ages 8-12. On the surface it is a mythic adventure, but underneath it is an exercise in ethical choice: in the gods’ arena of trials, kindness alone cannot carry you through the maze-“only wisdom can light the way.” She stresses that “true kindness requires discernment and execution through wisdom”-a central tenet of classical ethics, which she introduces as an entry point for young readers.
She frames the book as a “parable to be shared”: parents and teachers can use it for discussion, while children bring both logic and feeling into it. Kindness is not a slogan; wisdom is not cold reasoning-they work together in community practice. This is precisely what the classics often teach: virtue needs practice and judgment, not labels.
Her later work grew more mature. The Cycle of Life presents a starker parable of humanity: on a remote island, every newborn triggers a deadly lottery that sends one person off a cliff in the name of “balance.” When protagonist Edward draws the fatal red stone, he fulfills his pledge by sacrificing his life, entrusting his family and the mission of ending injustice to others. Ultimately, villagers shatter the “elder myth” that sustained fear-based rule, destroying the cauldron symbolizing tyranny.
This book won a Scholastic Gold Key Award, praised for “juxtaposing classical allegorical structure with sharp contemporary critique.” Rather than using myth to escape reality, Elizabeth used myth to train moral muscles for real life: tradition is not inherently just, fear is no justification for rule, choices require courage, and often courage is illuminated by a single sacrifice.
Equally thought-provoking is her latest work Italian Memoir, based on her year abroad. It is a cross-cultural self-narrative filled with both concrete details-language classes, church inscriptions, city walks-and persistent self-questioning about identity and culture. “When I open a textbook analyzing Caesar instead of Confucius, I often feel like a traitor.” She frames this imbalance as honest confusion rather than easy conclusion, and this honesty makes the work deeply relatable. The memoir also won a Gold Key Award.
In the essay “A Fraud, That’s Who I Am,” she borrows Pico Iyer’s sentence pattern “I cannot truly call myself‚Ķ” to articulate hesitation about identity. She admits that living at the intersection of three cultures does not give her “three homes” but often threefold estrangement. When coaches ask students to say where they are from, her peers answer easily; she simply says, “I live in Pennsylvania now,” to avoid a long explanation.
This is not rebellion but honesty. She realizes that identity narratives are not neat, and multiple backgrounds do not automatically yield a “complete self.” But writing helps her see that identities need not cancel one another-they can illuminate one another. Switching between Latin and Chinese, between memories of Italy and childhood in Shanghai, she finds new expression in the gaps.
“Writing makes me see that maybe because I move between cultures, I can see more,” she said in an interview. She transforms “uncertainty” from a source of anxiety into a narrative resource.
Thematic Ensemble: Justice, Kindness, and What It Means to Be Human
Across her works, Elizabeth circles around recurring themes: justice, kindness, choice, responsibility. She doesn’t discuss them abstractly, but embeds them into fate and scenes-a “red stone,” a cliff, a shattered cauldron, an elder manipulating fear. Readers feel ethics through the story rather than merely know them in words.
“Writing is how I search for answers. The answers may not exist, but the process matters,” she stresses. Her stories rehearse loyalty to promises, resistance against tyranny, and the shift of communities from fear to rational solidarity. These are not “bookish virtues” but concrete, recognizable action paths.
She has received multiple Scholastic Art & Writing Awards, including Gold Keys and honorable mentions. For her, a Gold Key is not a finish line but recognition-proof that even her cross-cultural memoir filled with confusion and reflection can be understood and embraced.
The awards also reinforced her conviction that writing can cross both ages and borders. She believes young writers can indeed build bridges between the classical and the contemporary, between literature and public issues, turning stories into tools for dialogue.
Her commitment to justice extends beyond her writing. Teachers and peers describe her as someone with a strong sense of fairness-someone who speaks up against injustice, especially when women face inequity. She admits that writing hasn’t distanced her from reality but has made her see problems more clearly. In stories, characters face fate and divine will; in real life, people face prejudice, systemic barriers, and silent bystanders. Both worlds ask the same: What will you choose?
This is why she insists that kindness must walk hand in hand with wisdom. Kindness is not unconditional yielding, but a complex virtue tied to judgment, rules, and courage. Her stories don’t shy from heavy topics like “how fear manipulates communities,” but make them digestible for young readers-literature as a safe entry into a complex world.
Bringing the Classics Into the Contemporary: Digital Humanities and Public Engagement
It may be surprising that as a high school senior, Elizabeth already has her own mature understanding and practice of classical heritage. For her, “inheritance” does not mean rote repetition of classics. She explicitly embraces the approach of Digital Humanities-using modern tools to organize, annotate, and convert ancient Greek and Latin texts, making them searchable, teachable, and accessible in today’s digital world.
At the school level, she has trained in projects that awaken classical texts from their “sleep” in bound volumes into “usable states.” She describes this as “a handshake across millennia”-digitization makes ancient voices available to today’s students, scholars, and readers. For her, this is not technical showmanship but an ethical act of accessibility and dissemination.
She also envisions a platform for young people: a “modern myth” incubator. The goal is not to act as a tour guide to the classics, but to invite youth to create new parables after engaging with classical motifs-translating ancient themes into modern public issues and life scenarios. This re-creation is where inheritance meets innovation.
Asked about her future, she is clear: she wants to continue in classics, pursue academic paths, even a doctorate. Not to confine herself in an ivory tower, but to build long-term foundations for connecting tradition and innovation. Rigorous training in philology, textual criticism, and intellectual history, she believes, are the solid materials for a bridge that links antiquity to today.
Yet her roadmap extends beyond academia: she envisions a “triple helix” of academic research + creative writing + digital dissemination. One end rooted in classical sources, one end creating new stories, and the middle keeping the two ends connected through technology. This unusual but fitting path aligns with her lifelong ability to navigate multiple worlds.
She repeatedly stresses: “Ancient stories can still answer modern questions.” This is not rhetoric in defense of classics, but an educational philosophy: classical education is not about producing people who recite famous quotes, but about cultivating judgment, empathy, and communal awareness-the very resources modern society lacks.
Thus she advocates bringing classics into public discussion rather than limiting them to specialists; adapting them into child-friendly stories for family and school dialogue; and expanding their visibility through technology to open doors for learners of diverse backgrounds. Her “radio education” proposal is precisely an attempt to extend this educational vision into broader and harder-to-reach communities.
In 2025, as a youth speaker at the UN High-Level Forum, she stood on stage not with complex jargon or flashy slides, but holding up an old radio. She told educators and policymakers: “In some communities, one radio equals one school.”
She pointed out that more than 17% of children worldwide remain out of school. If “educational innovation” is equated only with the newest and most expensive devices, the most vulnerable are excluded. She advocated a community-based solution: radio education-low-cost, independent of electricity grids and internet, and sustainable through partnerships with local stations and universities.
“True educational innovation must be people-centered, rooted in community, and respectful of culture.” Her speech received resounding applause. Some remarked: “She is not just a storyteller-she is a disseminator of ideas.”
Her perspective resonates with the UN Sustainable Development Goal 4 (Quality Education): “Educational innovation is not about chasing the newest products, but about addressing the most urgent needs.” Her ability to structure and articulate ethics through classical narratives translated seamlessly into clear communication on global public issues.
Conclusion: A Generation Naming Itself
Between “everywhere” and “nowhere,” a seventeen-year-old girl has set her own compass: writing the future between the classical and the contemporary. Through stories she trains judgment, through language she heals fractures, through technology she expands access, through speeches she summons attention. She transforms “uncertain identity” into “narrative possibility” and turns “the weight of tradition” into “energy for the present.”
“True educational innovation must be people-centered, rooted in community, and respectful of culture.”
“Kindness must be joined with wisdom to become true strength.”
“Ancient stories can still answer modern questions.”
These three sentences are like keys she offers: humanity, wisdom, and connection across time. She is already on her way, carrying both the classical and the contemporary, both youth and maturity, walking a path toward the far horizon.
