The first school we contacted was Wuxi City Xinwu District First Experimental School. This was our team’s first time entering a school as teachers. It was not just a “first breakthrough,” but more like a “first growth.” This lesson was not just a simple attempt; it was also a key part of our “Spark Classroom”—the integrated synthetic biology curriculum. According to our initial plan, elementary school should ignite interest, and middle school should build a deeper understanding. Therefore, we placed greater emphasis on logical coherence and interaction in the classroom design, hoping that students could naturally link knowledge through Q&A and games.

As we grew older, we gradually forgot what we learned in middle school and weren’t sure what the students knew at this stage. To prepare more thoroughly, we reached out to Xu Miao, the biology teacher at the school. She was very enthusiastic and sent us the syllabus and current teaching progress, briefly introducing the learning state of her students. After reviewing the materials, we became even more uncertain. After all, the knowledge structure at the middle school stage hasn’t been fully established yet—if we directly talked about “synthetic biology” and “bacterial delivery platforms,” would they understand? We also worried that in just forty minutes, if we bombarded the students with too many difficult terms, not only would we fail to convey knowledge, but we might extinguish their interest. To address this, we contacted Zhang Xinlei, a teacher with many years of teaching experience in Yunnan. We shared our concerns with him over the phone, and after listening, he laughed and said one thing: “Don’t underestimate today’s kids.”

He said that while middle school students might not have as much knowledge, their logical ability, comprehension, and curiosity are quite strong. As long as we make the material clear and interesting, there’s no knowledge that can’t be understood. What’s really important is not to “simplify content,” but to “reconstruct the way it’s expressed.” He also said, “Don’t put yourself too high, and don’t be afraid of any generation gap. In fact, they are the same age as you. The only difference is that you’ve been sitting in the classroom a few years earlier.”

After receiving guidance from the two teachers, we revised the lesson plan, carefully designed each PowerPoint slide, and even simulated the full teaching process. From the introduction to the logical flow of knowledge, from analogies to interactive activities, we made several adjustments.

Fortunately, the lesson went smoothly. The main goal was to introduce the concept of “synthetic biology,” a cutting-edge and unfamiliar idea. But we knew that knowledge isn’t just something to be read out loud—it needs to be ignited. So, we carefully designed a structured yet fun teaching process: starting with the basics of “wh at are microorganisms,” gradually guiding students to understand “microorganisms can be edited,” and smoothly transitioning to our project’s idea of “using microorganisms to treat cancer.” To enhance interaction, we set up many Q&A sessions and encouraged students to come up to the board to complete a “picture-matching” game. The entire class operated on a points system, where each group’s performance was recorded, and the group with the highest score would receive a small prize. However, we were more concerned about “engagement” rather than “winning or losing,” so at the end of the class, we gave gifts to every group and a special gift to the most active student.

We were honored that Ms. Fang Yun, the principal of Wuxi City Xinwu District First Experimental School, attended the class and observed the whole lesson. For us, this was undoubtedly a huge encouragement. But as “student instructors” for the first time, we were filled with anxiety and even practiced repeatedly in the simulation sessions a few nights before. In the photos from the class, you can see that we designed a lot of Q&A and point-scoring mechanisms, trying to energize the atmosphere and avoid the awkwardness of “dead air.”

After the class, Ms. Fang Yun kindly communicated with us, offering valuable advice and encouragement. She said, “Thank you to the iGEM team for giving our middle school students the opportunity to understand the basic concepts of synthetic biology and the charm of biological sciences. Your professional knowledge and team coordination left a deep impression on the students. I have a small suggestion: your Q&A sessions are meaningful and good, but remember that the fun of a class doesn’t depend solely on how much interaction there is. Sometimes, a smoother logical flow, a more fitting analogy, or even the determination in the speaker’s eyes can also bring knowledge to life.”

She also pointed out that the success of this activity was largely due to the fact that “the audience was middle school students, whose attention mechanisms and participation styles are well-suited to a ‘game-based’ approach.” “But if the audience were high school or even university students, this approach might not be as effective.” This conversation made us realize an important blind spot—we thought “lively atmosphere” was the key, but for higher knowledge levels and stronger information-processing abilities, excessive interaction might interrupt their understanding and make it harder for them to immerse themselves.

So, we took note of Ms. Fang Yun’s advice and began to pay more attention to the “rhythm and beauty of content expression” in subsequent courses. We started to raise our standards for every analogy and every slide: Is it clear enough? Can it independently attract attention? Can it keep the audience engaged even without interaction?

Thus, when Principal Fang Yun reminded us that “interaction is not the only source of fun,” we realized that our original design worked for middle school, but if we were to extend it to high school or university, adjustments would be needed. This feedback taught us that a plan is not fixed, but needs to be iterated. We recorded these suggestions and are preparing to introduce a “more logical flow” of teaching in the upcoming high school courses.

One class gave us two opportunities for growth. One was through teaching practice when facing the students, and the other was through self-reflection when facing the “educators.” More importantly, it showed us that the initial plan was feasible, but only through practice and feedback could our courses gradually approach completion.

Next, we launched another activity in our “Integrated Synthetic Biology Curriculum” — the Reading Club. In our curriculum design, the Reading Club is a key part of the "Spark Classroom" for the elementary school stage, aiming to ignite interest and build understanding through cultural familiarity. This time, we found Ms. Zhang Hairong, who has long been hosting children’s reading clubs. She has many years of experience in guiding children through classical poetry and prose and understands the rhythm and points of interest for elementary students. Our team has always hoped to find a way to retain academic depth while maintaining cultural fun, and after in-depth discussions with Aunt Zhang, an innovative idea gradually took shape: we attempted to create a dialogue between synthetic biology and a form of traditional Chinese culture. That form is: Classical Chinese.

If you're not familiar with the history of Chinese, let me explain a bit. Classical Chinese (文言文) was a written expression used in Chinese before the medieval period. It is highly concise, with short sentences and flexible word order, often saying "the words are limited, but the meaning is boundless." Just as Latin is to the English-speaking world, Classical Chinese retains the spirit and structural framework of ancient Chinese culture, thought, and science.

In today’s China, although we use Modern Chinese in daily life, students still learn Classical Chinese in the classroom, just as Western students study Shakespeare or Plato. We believe that within Classical Chinese, there lies the earliest “systematic thinking” and “world models” in our culture. This might sound unbelievable, but to us, it is an attempt to cross time and space for a dialogue. We started searching through ancient texts, looking for classical literature that echoed concepts such as "synthesis," "simulation," "organs," and "artificial life." Although we knew ancient Chinese science had not developed to the level of modern biology, the Chinese imagination of "biomimicry," "tool-making," and "creation" has always been present.

Ultimately, we selected the famous story from Liezi·Tangwen — “The Creation of the Mannequin by Master Yanshi.”

The story goes: The skilled craftsman Yanshi from the state of Lu presented a mannequin to King Mu of Zhou. It could walk, sing, dance, and even flirt, indistinguishable from a real person. King Mu thought it was a real person and was amazed. However, Yanshi then proceeded to dissect it, demonstrating how its "artificial organs"—leather, glue, wood, teeth, hair, and internal organs—worked together. King Mu was shocked and ordered the mannequin to be destroyed, as he believed it disrupted the “natural order.”

Although our team discussed the story and concluded that it was fictional, it deeply shocked us. It not only imagined biomimicry and artificial life over 2,000 years ago but also raised a question that is still debated in iGEM: Can we create life? Should we create life? Is the life we create a thing, or is it an independent being? How should we view the life we edit? Is it destruction or acceptance? During our project, we also had to consider the impact of the life we edit on human society, such as ethical issues and safety concerns.

This attempt was a small “Test” in our large loop. We wanted to verify if the "traditional culture + science" model could truly be accepted by students. We even began to question whether this was a coincidence. A piece of ancient literature seemed to align perfectly with the core values and spirit of the HP aspect of the iGEM competition. We eagerly created teaching materials and drafted the script, excited to stand on the podium. However, the outcome was disappointing.

We made a mistake. We jumped straight into explaining the Classical Chinese text without introducing the competition background or explaining our research project. As a result, the children had no idea why we were presenting this Classical Chinese text, and they didn’t understand its connection to our project or competition. To our dismay, even some parents were confused. We neglected the most basic element—context.

After the class, Ms. Zhang Hairong did not reprimand us but gently said, “As a university student team, you did well, but there are a few issues I want to discuss with you. First, the difficulty level of this course. This Classical Chinese text is still too difficult for the kids, even though you provided many annotations and translations. The children don’t understand your competition, nor do they know the requirements or the details of your project. As a result, they couldn’t grasp the connection between the Classical Chinese text and your project. I’m sure about your innovative idea, but the audience and the context of your explanation need to be improved.”This feedback was not only a critique of one lesson but also a key revision for our "Spark Classroom" plan.

Her words struck us. We realized that “high-level content” is not the key to successful teaching. Being understood is. This time, we failed. But we told ourselves, failure is acceptable, but giving up is not. We will pick up the experience from this fall and use it to build a springboard for the next leap. This segment made us clearly see that the elementary school curriculum must be gradual, and the background and storytelling are indispensable. They will become an important part of our revised curriculum.

According to our overall plan for the “Spark Classroom,” after the fun experiments in elementary school and the problem-based lessons in middle school, the goal of the high school section was to help students truly engage with the project itself using stronger logic and completeness. However, after the failure of the Reading Club, the atmosphere in our team remained quite low. Our PI, Professor Yongtao Zhu, learned about this and, without a word of reprimand, said earnestly: “One failure doesn’t determine much. You’ve done the teaching, but there are still some parts worth revising together.”

He could see that we were discouraged, so he suggested we attend the high school summer school earlier, where he was going to teach one of our Spark Classroom activities. He hoped we could listen, observe, and experience how a well-designed class should unfold. He wanted us to leave behind the short-term defeat and step into real classrooms, starting with “listening,” and then “teaching.”

We understood Professor Zhu’s good intentions and appreciated this thoughtful arrangement. But at that moment, another idea kept emerging in our minds. “A person is not a product of their environment, but a product of their choices.” — Stephen Covey’s words suddenly echoed in our minds. We began to realize: if we truly wanted to rise from this fall, we had to rely on ourselves. So, we made a decision that seemed somewhat impulsive, yet was extremely serious— we proactively contacted Suzhou No. 10 High School, and arranged our next teaching activity the day before Professor Zhu’s summer school class.

We firmly believe that to truly understand the path of education, you must walk it yourself, to know where to turn, where to slow down, and where to stop and wait for the students—and for yourself. We contacted Suzhou No. 10 High School, a prestigious institution with a century-long history. Originally founded as “Zhenhua Girls’ School” in 1906 by patriotic figures during the late Qing Dynasty, this school was always aimed at “reviving China.” Even during the most difficult times of the Anti-Japanese War, the school did not remain silent—it sent its students into the streets, participating in patriotic campaigns and national salvation movements. The school has been relocated, revived, and closed multiple times but has never extinguished the light of education. Today, it is a four-star high school in Jiangsu Province and a national-level demonstration high school, officially renamed Suzhou University Affiliated Suzhou No. 10 High School in 2022. This is not just a campus, but a continuation of history.

Contacting such a school was a real challenge. But as Hegel said: “All human power can only be gained through practice.” We reached out to this school, rich with a century-old spirit. We were honored that Suzhou No. 10 High School officially approved our course application. After communicating with Grade Director Jiajun Zhu, who understood our project content and educational goals, she arranged for us to teach a class of top biology students, many of whom had excelled in city-level exams.

This time, we applied everything we had learned from previous experiences: “What kind of course can balance academic depth and teaching fun?” We also remembered Ms. Fang Yun’s repeated advice — “Logic and rhythm are the backbone of a good class,” and MS. Zhang Hairong’s succinct suggestion — “A lack of background in teaching reduces the students’ comprehension.”

So, we decided to directly present our project itself. This decision was not made hastily, but after extensive discussion. After finalizing our decision, we consulted Lili Yang, the class teacher, and after hearing our approach, she nodded: “I believe in your ability and in my students’ comprehension.”

After reflecting on the feedback from previous activities, we devised the following teaching flow:

1. Start with who we are and introduce the iGEM competition.
2. Introduce synthetic biology and how it serves real-world problems.
3. Reveal the severity of cancer, especially triple-negative breast cancer.
4. Introduce the breakthrough in “Tumor-Intrinsic Bacteria” research and establish the scientific foundation of “bacteria entering tumors.”
5. Naturally introduce our core project: how to use engineered bacteria to enter tumor cells and open new pathways for cancer treatment.

This lesson was by far the most successful we had encountered. Even though it was right before their final exams, and many classes were in intensive review mode, we still received focused attention from students in the classroom.

After class, a large group of students eagerly gathered around us, asking a variety of questions—some asked, “How do you make the bacteria enter only cancer cells without harming normal tissues?” Others asked, “What is the specific monitoring mechanism for triple-negative breast cancer?” These questions exceeded our expectations and our initial assumptions about high school students' ability to understand.

We were overjoyed, not just because they understood our project, but because they were truly thinking, curious, and extending the knowledge. This was exactly what we hoped to see—not just accepting answers, but starting to ask questions. In that moment, we realized that all the repeated practice, all the lesson plan refinements, all the regret and falls, were worth it. We believed that the spark we had passed on was truly caught by someone. More importantly, we confirmed that the high school curriculum should strike a balance between logic and depth. This was a successful iteration of our initial “Spark Classroom” design.

After completing the previous rounds of lessons, we continued to advance to the high school stage of our “Spark Classroom” by holding a summer school session in collaboration with Professor Yongtao Zhu. This was not a random attempt but a key part of our overall educational plan. We found a partner in Xima International School, part of Suzhou High School District. In this class, Professor Zhu introduced our team and project to the students. While he was the one teaching, we participated fully as teaching assistants (TAs), assisting with guiding the class and providing support to ensure the smooth progression of the lesson. The class covered the basics of microbiology, but it went far beyond just “lecturing.” Professor Zhu designed a highly engaging practical activity: the international high school students collected bacterial strains from their own environment—some from their desks, some from their skin—then inoculated them and used Gram staining to observe and identify the types of bacteria. The process was intricately linked, combining theory and hands-on practice.

Our team unanimously agreed that this class was “especially successful.” Not because the process went smoothly or because of the enthusiastic feedback, but because we truly saw the students gaining knowledge during the experiment. They sparked curiosity through the hands-on operation, and they kept asking questions during the experiment. Their thinking was no longer passively absorbing; it was actively growing.

As Deng Xiaoping once said, “Practice is the sole criterion for testing truth.” In this class, we saw firsthand how the “spark of science” is ignited—not through endless definitions and terminology, but through a drop of bacterial liquid, a stain, and a discovery under the microscope. After the class, Professor Zhu didn’t rush to leave but patiently provided us with some guidance. He said, “Our TA cooperation was very smooth today, and the students’ responses were good. But I want to remind you that a good class is not just about ‘getting students to do something,’ it’s also about ‘getting them to think.’ Operations are an introduction, but true internalization requires a knowledge framework. Theory and practice are like the two wheels of a cart; both are indispensable.”

He gave examples, pointing out which parts of the lesson could benefit from more background information to help students understand better, and where a guiding sentence could make the students’ questions more focused. He even helped us organize a thought process: “Action is the entry point for emotions, theory is the endpoint for rationality.” He encouraged us to combine the two logically and systematically to allow students to “do with questions” and “leave with insights.” This class wasn’t just a teaching practice, but an important checkpoint in our “Spark Classroom” cycle. It helped us confirm that high school education needs to combine sufficient hands-on experiments to spark interest, with a clear theoretical framework to reinforce understanding. This realization became a key element in refining our educational model.

After the summer school experience, we gained a deeper understanding of the concept of "education." To test our growth in theory and practice, we decided to take the initiative and contacted the leadership of Suzhou High-tech Zone Experimental Primary School to request a teaching activity for third-grade students. This time, we had a clearer goal—not only to get the children to "hear the knowledge" but also to help them "touch the knowledge."

Unlike middle and high school students, elementary school children are younger, and their thinking and behavior are still developing, making them naturally curious about the world. However, we also knew that if this curiosity isn’t properly guided, it can easily turn into a "superficial playtime" rather than a meaningful learning experience. What content would spark their interest while staying within their understanding? Are the materials for hands-on activities safe enough? Does the class rhythm match their attention span? We discussed and considered these questions in our team. Given the characteristics of younger children, we ultimately decided on a teaching approach that combined science with fun: making cell models using ultra-light clay. Would it be more memorable for the children to create their own mitochondria, cell membranes, and nuclei out of clay, rather than just seeing diagrams on a PowerPoint? We quickly made a PowerPoint, designed the class flow, and purchased high-quality clay materials. We also received great support from both Suzhou University and the Experimental Primary School, and after submitting the lesson plan and risk assessment, the school quickly approved our application.

On the day of the class, we experienced the most "exciting" part of our educational journey. The children's enthusiasm exceeded our expectations, and when we brought out the clay, the atmosphere almost boiled over. Initially, we thought the "teaching content" would be the star of the lesson, but in the end, the most popular thing was the colorful, moldable clay. We had originally brought along some small gifts to distribute after the class, but amidst the children's cheers of "The clay is so fun!" and "I want to make another chloroplast!" we ended up giving away all the remaining clay.

This experience reinforced a belief: the combination of theory and practice is the true power of education. The clay was just a medium, but it made the abstract cell structure tangible. Knowledge no longer stayed on the PowerPoint slides; it was literally "shaped" by the children’s hands. For the first time, we truly saw theory take root in practice, and practice be reinterpreted through theory.

After validating the elementary school teaching model, we became even more confident that our educational model was effective. So, we decided to take this approach to a broader stage. After much consideration, we turned our attention to the Cold Spring Harbor Asia DNA Learning Center. The Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory (CSHL) is one of the world’s top life sciences research institutions, renowned for its work in molecular biology, genetics, and cancer research. The Asia DNA Learning Center, located in Suzhou Industrial Park, is a branch established by CSHL in China in 2014. It not only serves as a science education platform for middle school students, undergraduates, and the public but also prides itself on enabling non-professional students to experience cutting-edge experiments firsthand. This platform aligned perfectly with our educational philosophy and provided an ideal testing ground to validate the “theory + practice” combination.

In multiple discussions with the Learning Center, we decided to use bacteria painting as the main activity for the summer school. It’s a basic but highly engaging experiment. To make the class more attractive, we invited our partner team, XJTLU-AI-China, to join. They specialize in AI and software programming, while we bring experience in experimental operations and hands-on activities—perfectly complementary. The final idea was to guide the children to use AI to visualize their ideas, and then have us help them bring those ideas to life by growing them on agar plates through bacteria painting. This was not just an experiment, but a cross-disciplinary “mind + hands” practice.

In preparing the lesson, we maintained close communication with Ms. Xinyue Wang, the head of the Learning Center. She provided many useful suggestions for the lesson details. For instance, our initial plan was to use a micropipette to inoculate the bacteria, but Ms. Wang advised, “This might be too difficult for young children. You can try using cotton swabs or toothpicks instead.” After several tests, we settled on using toothpicks, which were both safe and easy for the children to use.

When selecting bacterial strains, we paid close attention to safety. After multiple discussions with Ms. Wang and PI Yongtao Zhu, we decided to use non-GMO, low-toxicity, and low-biosafety-level natural strains to ensure the safety of elementary and middle school students during the hands-on activities. Ultimately, we chose Micrococcus luteus and E. coli 1917. After numerous experiments, we optimized the best inoculation concentration, which would produce clear and attractive patterns within 24 hours. To involve more children, we posted the course on the “Growing Suzhou—Minority Youth Social Practice” platform, a government-supported initiative aimed at enhancing the scientific literacy and practical skills of minors in Suzhou. Through this platform, we successfully recruited 28 students.

During the class, the children’s level of engagement far exceeded our expectations. They followed laboratory safety rules and excitedly completed the inoculation and painting. Meanwhile, the AI-China team led the children to transform their imagination into virtual patterns using AI, which they then applied to the experiment. The combination of these two methods created a fascinating interdisciplinary experience.

After the class, Ms. Xinyue Wang remarked, “This was the best one yet.” For us, this was the highest praise. More importantly, it validated the superiority of our approach: it wasn’t just about knowledge transmission; it was about combining theoretical background, experimental operation, and interdisciplinary thinking. The children freely moved between AI-generated patterns and bacterial artwork, and their thinking no longer stayed in textbooks but truly entered the world of science through “thinking + doing.” This model made education not just about “listening” but about “doing,” expanding the children’s imagination and creativity through cross-field cooperation.

During the season of school club recruitment, we didn’t want the impact we had made to remain confined to classrooms and experiments. So, we decided to gather it all into an exhibition held at XJTLU's Central Building (CB). We brought back the clay cell models made by the children in the elementary school class and displayed the bacteria paintings and fluorescent bacteria art created at the Cold Spring Harbor Asia DNA Learning Center. Those pieces, though perhaps naive, were full of childlike innocence; though rough, they silently told the story of life.

This exhibition wasn’t just completed by our team alone. It was a true collaboration and fusion. We partnered with the XJTLU Art Association’s Calligraphy and Painting Group, incorporating traditional arts like ink painting, calligraphy, and sculpture; we collaborated with the Cold Spring Harbor Asia DNA Learning Center to transform scientific experiments and educational achievements into exhibits for the public; and we worked alongside XJTLU-AI-China, who brought in AI-generated artworks.

Thus, the atmosphere in the exhibition hall became multi-layered and dynamic: there were cell models made of clay by children, microbial art blooming under microscopes, ink and calligraphy from around the country, and futuristic AI-generated images. Science and art intertwined here, no longer isolated fields but ways of pointing to the same theme—vitality and a re-recognition of science.

We hope that everyone who walks into the CB exhibition hall can feel: science is not a cold formula, and art is not an unattainable illusion. Both can be sparks, igniting people’s appreciation and reverence for life.

If the elementary, middle school, summer school, and exhibition activities were our steps of “going out,” then this last stop is our “return” — going back to our familiar campus and passing the spark to the next generation.

During the new school year’s club recruitment season, we once again collaborated with XJTLU-AI-China, and this time we invited the XJTLU Biology Club to join. Unlike before, when we faced younger children, this time our audience was university students, just like us, who shared a curiosity and love for biology.

We didn’t beat around the bush but chose the most direct way: to present the iGEM competition to them. We told them that iGEM is not just a research competition; it’s more like a stage—here, you can turn the knowledge from textbooks into operations in the lab, turn ideas into plans, and turn interests into results. It is a testing ground that hones not only experimental skills but also teamwork, independent thinking, and the courage to face difficulties.

We honestly shared that most of our team members only learned about iGEM in our sophomore year and started on this path for the first time. If we had been exposed to this platform earlier, our life trajectories might have been more determined, with less confusion. So, we hoped to take this opportunity to give the “spark we didn’t receive” to them in advance.

The meaning of education is not about filling heads but passing the torch. We firmly believe: even if we only ignite one person, the spark will continue to pass on. And the direction of the spark is not decided by us, but by them — the future iGEMers, who will choose their path.

When we initially designed the all-age integrated education plan, we realized that different age groups require completely different educational approaches. Children need interest-driven engagement and logical guidance, while middle-aged and elderly people already have their own knowledge systems and life habits. Instead of trying to "reshape" them, we decided to amplify the health concepts they already recognize in a gentler way. Thus, from the very beginning, we included an activity in the plan: to integrate health education into daily activities rather than simply classroom instruction.

Why badminton? Because it is a sport that nearly everyone can participate in. We did not want to "preach" to the elderly but rather hoped to convey a simple yet important message through a friendly, natural, and relaxed activity: no matter how advanced drugs and technologies are, a healthy body is still the most precious.

In the preparation stage, we discussed this idea with PI Professor Yongtao Zhu, who was very supportive and immediately reported it to the academy. The academy not only helped us apply for the venue but also actively promoted the event within the school. Ultimately, 24 teachers and students signed up. On the day of the event, we successfully completed the match while ensuring safety. Both teachers and students showed great enthusiasm on the court. Laughter and sweat intertwined, and the competition became not just a contest but a collective practice of a healthy lifestyle.

After the event, many participants gave positive feedback and even expressed interest in continuing such activities in the future. For us, this was not just a match, but it validated a key concept: the core of education for middle-aged and elderly people is not to add more knowledge but to amplify reminders; not to force change, but to gently accompany.

When we first designed the all-age integrated education plan, we had already made it clear: the educational approach for the elderly must be completely different from that for younger generations. Compared to classroom-based teaching, they need gentle reminders and sincere companionship. Thus, from the start, we decided to name this educational model "Guarding and Reminding," and the practice in the Yunnan community became a realization of this idea.

For the group over 60 years old, their life perspectives are often deeply ingrained and hard to change. We did not expect to "plant" new knowledge in them but rather hoped to amplify what they already knew: regular routines, consistent exercise, balanced diet, and regular check-ups. Therefore, we established a connection with Heilongjiang Community in Kunming, Yunnan Province. With a large number of ethnic minorities and diverse lifestyles, we hoped to naturally convey health concepts in this grounded setting.

Our activity was named “Healthy Living is the Best Anti-Cancer Medicine.” The specific format was a "survey." Although it appeared to be a questionnaire, it was essentially a health reminder. The answers to the questions were almost self-evident, and the goal was to help participants naturally realize those simple yet extremely important lifestyle habits during the process of filling out the survey.

To add warmth, after each survey was completed, we gave a free fresh egg to each participant. The egg, although ordinary, symbolizes health, nutrition, and daily care. We hoped that this small gesture would remind participants of the importance of a healthy lifestyle at their dining table.

We conducted this activity twice, both of which were very successful. The community residents actively participated, and the feedback was enthusiastic. We also truly realized: education for the elderly is not about "changing" them, but about "guarding" them—reminding them that health is actually in their hands.