時事論事，不論政治。

According to surveys on smartphone usage among adolescents, most students use their phones for over three hours daily, and even longer on weekends, primarily for social media, short videos, games, and chatting. If I were to self-assess on a scale of '0 for completely non-dependent to 20 for severely dependent,' I'd place myself around 14, indicating a moderate to high level of dependency. My self-assessment includes: using my phone for over three hours daily, my last action before sleep is scrolling through my phone, frequently getting distracted by notifications while studying, feeling anxious without my phone, and procrastinating on assignments or sleep due to my phone. These scores remind me that my phone is no longer just a tool but is subtly affecting my studies and life. From my own experience, smartphones have positive benefits for learning. Looking up English words, watching tutorial videos, using a calendar to schedule exams, and confirming assignments in the class group chat all make learning more convenient. However, the negative impacts are more apparent. I might start by looking up a single piece of information, only to get sidetracked by notifications and short videos; assignments that could be completed in ten minutes often get delayed for an hour. While studying, my brain, accustomed to rapid switching, has its focus fragmented, and I feel the urge to grab my phone after reading just a few lines of the textbook. Scrolling through my phone before bed also leads to late nights, causing me to doze off in class the next day and miss key points the teacher makes. The phone itself isn't wrong, but 'uncontrolled usage' makes me pay the price in focus and sleep. In terms of lifestyle, my phone allows me to contact friends anytime, record my life, and relax. However, it also reduces my physical activity, limits face-to-face conversations with family, and even causes anxiety from comparing myself to others' posts. Sometimes, when my parents tell me to use it less, I feel nagged, which increases parent-child conflict. I've discovered that smartphone dependency often isn't just about 'liking to play' but involves other factors.

The 'Exam Anxiety Index' isn't just about asking 'Are you nervous?', but refers to the comprehensive cognitive, emotional, physiological, and behavioral responses a person experiences when facing an exam. Student exam psychology research often categorizes it into several types: cognitive 'worry' (fear of failing, being ridiculed, or life being ruined), emotional tension and irritability, physiological responses like rapid heartbeat, trembling hands, insomnia, and gastrointestinal discomfort, and behavioral patterns such as procrastination, avoidance, and repetitive checking. If self-assessed on a scale of 0 to 10, many students fall between 6 and 8 before major exams. Drawing from student experiences, I might describe it like this: a month before an exam, even though I'm sitting at my desk, my mind is constantly flooded with thoughts like 'What if I can't finish studying?'. As soon as the exam bell rings, my palms sweat, my heart races, and what I had memorized suddenly goes blank. Seeing others turn pages faster than me makes me doubt myself. After the exam, instead of relaxing, I endlessly compare answers and blame myself. In this state, the anxiety index might already be quite high. It's not just 'overthinking'; it's the body and brain entering an alert mode together. The formation of exam anxiety usually isn't due to a single cause. First, there are cognitive and personality factors. Perfectionism, low self-efficacy, and catastrophizing thinking equate a single exam to self-worth. For example, 'If I don't do well, it means I'm stupid' or 'One failure means no future.' Cognitive interference theory suggests that worry occupies working memory, preventing people from writing what they know. Second, there are preparation and experience factors. Insufficient preparation, poor time management, and past failures provide a realistic basis for anxiety; however, even with thorough preparation...

I. The Duality of Perfectionism Perfectionism is often misunderstood as a purely positive term – isn't having high standards for oneself a good thing? Psychological research, however, reveals a more complex picture. Perfectionism is actually a multidimensional psychological construct that includes two core aspects: 'perfectionistic striving' (setting high personal standards, pursuing excellence) and 'perfectionistic concerns' (excessive worry about mistakes, doubt about actions, perceiving others' demands as too high). The former can lead to adaptive outcomes, while the latter is closely related to psychological pathology. A study of 437 Korean high school students identified four types of perfectionism through latent profile analysis: non-perfectionists, general mixed type, adaptive perfectionists, and highly mixed perfectionists. Adaptive perfectionists performed best on academic and psychological indicators, while highly mixed perfectionists showed the most pronounced maladaptive characteristics—higher task avoidance, test anxiety, and depression levels. In other words, the real distinction lies not in 'whether one has high standards,' but in 'whether high standards are tied to self-criticism.' II. Impact on Learning: From Motivation to Resistance Drawing from personal experience, I deeply feel the dual effects of perfectionism in learning. When perfectionism operates in the form of 'personal standards,' it can indeed transform into a continuous motivation. Research shows that self-oriented perfectionism is positively associated with mastery-approach goals and performance-approach goals and can predict positive classroom emotions. This means that when students set high standards for themselves and put in effort,

In celebration of Teacher's Day, we wish all the teachers who silently dedicate themselves to passing on knowledge and imparting wisdom: Happy Teacher's Day!

If I were to measure my procrastination level on a scale of zero to ten, I'd say about a seven. The most typical experience is knowing a report is due two weeks in advance, yet only finishing it the night before the deadline after pulling an all-nighter. Or, knowing I need to study math, but first organizing my desk, replying to messages, or scrolling through short videos. It's not that I don't know the consequences, but rather that I 'know I should do it, but I don't.' Looking back, I believe the reason isn't just laziness, but a result of the combined effects of the task, emotions, and environment. Firstly, when a task is too large or vague, it's hard to know where to start. Time management resources often mention that 'important but not urgent' tasks are the easiest to procrastinate on because they lack immediate pressure. Writing a report isn't a single action, but a combination of finding information, reading, structuring, writing, and revising. When the brain sees the words 'complete the report,' it feels painful, so it turns to the phone, which provides immediate feedback. Short videos, games, and messages offer instant gratification, while the results of studying appear delayed. Naturally, people tend to choose what feels comfortable in the moment. Secondly, perfectionism and fear of failure also cause procrastination. I often think, 'If I'm going to do it, I should do it well.' As a result, because I'm afraid of doing poorly, I don't even start. Procrastination becomes a strategy to protect self-esteem: if I haven't put in my full effort, failure can be attributed to 'not trying hard enough' rather than 'lacking ability.' Furthermore, procrastination is a form of emotional regulation. When anxiety, boredom, or fatigue arises, scrolling on my phone offers temporary relief, but the anxiety doesn't disappear and often doubles down as the deadline approaches. Thirdly, distorted time perception and lack of supervision are also related. We often underestimate the time tasks require and overestimate future free time, thinking, 'I'll do it tomorrow.'

I. The Phenomenon of Comparison in Survey Data Recent survey data are gradually outlining the contours of peer comparison among students. A 2024 survey by the Hong Kong Federation of Youth Groups, interviewing 116 young people aged 12-24, found that nearly 80% of respondents use social platforms for over 4 hours daily. Social media usage showed a significant positive correlation with scores on the Generalized Anxiety Disorder Scale; the more respondents tended to compare their bodies, appearances, lives, and experiences with others, the higher their anxiety levels. A survey by 104 Job Bank targeting job seekers aged 18-30 indicated that 54.4% consider themselves to be under high pressure, 38.5% feel inferior due to social comparison, and 48.3% have refrained from applying for jobs they are interested in because they felt 'not good enough.' These figures point to a single phenomenon: comparison is no longer just a psychological state but a structural force influencing behavioral choices. Follow-up research in Taiwan provides another reference point. The Academia Sinica's 'Taiwan Longitudinal Study of Adolescents in the Digital Era' (TiGPS) found that approximately 17% of girls prefer their online image compared to about 8% of boys. In the 'Online Social Comparison' item set, the group that preferred their online image more also tended to compare themselves more strongly. This suggests that the object of comparison may not be 'real peers' but rather the carefully constructed online versions of peers. When the benchmark for comparison is itself distorted, anxiety gains an institutional source. II. The Multifaceted Nature of Comparison Through Personal Experience Shifting the focus from data back to daily life, the forms of comparison are more complex than statistical figures. During the academic phase, the most direct comparison is

In the 2018 PISA survey, the Numeracy Lab analyzed a sobering statistic: Taiwanese students ranked first globally in their 'fear of failure index,' with girls at 0.8 and boys at 0.54, significantly higher than the global average. The survey focused on three core questions—worrying about others' opinions, doubting one's own talent, and questioning future plans. Taiwanese students showed the highest agreement rates globally across five related items. From an experiential standpoint, this data is not surprising. East Asian societies are centered around academic competition, where individuals are immersed from a young age in a 'flawless competition.' Exams cannot be failed, and choices cannot be wrong. Furthermore, the Confucian concept of 'duty to strive' views effort as a moral responsibility to parents and oneself, making failure not just a matter of ability but also accompanied by guilt. The Numeracy Lab also pointed out that when 'ensuring success' becomes the primary goal, students tend to choose only easy tasks and play it safe, ultimately losing the courage to challenge themselves. I believe the core issue isn't that students 'aren't brave enough,' but rather that the entire evaluation system stigmatizes failure. When society measures success and failure by a single standard, the cost of risk-taking is magnified infinitely, and 'fear of failure' becomes a rational form of self-protection. However, as mathematician Littlewood said, 'Attempt the hard problems, maybe you won't solve them, but you will prove something else.' Schools should be places that embrace failure. Only when the motivation for learning shifts from 'fear of falling behind' to 'desire to understand something' can the fear of failure index begin to loosen its grip.