陈小宁的博客

进《中央戏剧学院》逛一圈

《中央戏剧学院》由三个词组成，中央说明是体制内单位，由国家拨钱，是否自负盈亏在现今的形势下并不明确，但从这里走出的人物看，如果有戏可演，市场就有需求，这要政策和管理到位，收入应该不成问题。第二个词是戏剧，这不仅是文化的象征，更是历史遗产的继承，所以它并不是可有可无的内容，而是必须支持的项目。第三个词是学院，在多少年前学院变大学的疯狂时代，它不但没有跟风，反而在闹市中安静地存在，在皇城之内按自己的意志维持和发展。

中央戏剧学院位于东城区交道口地区一个叫棉花胡同的小胡同里，胡同的东口离宽街不远，西口则就在著名的北京旅游地锣鼓巷里面。在北京很少有人说它的全名，因为说出全名很多人都会摇头说不知道，胡猜以为是八大学院之一，而说“中戏”可能就会有反应了。其实，如果对中戏没有起码的了解，就是在宽街或锣鼓巷地区，还是可能不知道中戏的位置。

中戏是个老学校，建于上个世纪五十年代，由包括延安鲁迅艺术学院戏曲系等三部分组成，至今院子里老院长欧阳予倩的塑像还在，见证了历史，也希望保留了该有的传承。看到这些不禁想起几年前笑话一样的事实，一则是毕业生需要换毕业证，原因是校长犯错误了，在毕业证上的印章变得成为一种耻辱，可是就没想到整个上学期间还不是一直在此校长的关照之下的吗。再有就是学校改名，把学院变成大学，似乎是变大了，但根没了，会让改名前的毕业生找不到家。

同样的问题也会出在学生身上，中戏出了很多有名的演员，他们中间的很多人也会有照片和介绍挂在办公楼的楼道里，给看到的人带来回忆，对新人也是一种激励。历史就是这样，承认一个人的功绩并不能表明他就不会犯错误，而对错误的追究也不应该否定其贡献。看到墙上一幅幅照片，很多都是熟悉的，回忆可以延续很多年，因为一些演员已经作古，带着时代的特征这些演员带给民众时代的气息，其中也有许多正能量追随着历史的脚步。

中戏是中央直属的专业学校，叫学院而不叫大学并不会显得档次不够，而更能反映其对专业不偏离的最求，当然，随着规模的扩大局限在城中的戏院也显得拥挤，特别是在寸土寸金的皇城根下，更是难有扩张的余地。和其他大学一样，在郊区也有了自己的分校。

进入校园时是中午时分，操场比较冷清，但食堂却被前来用餐的师生员工挤满。不愧是艺术院校，学生一看就是一道风景线，俊男浪女说说笑笑非常养眼，高高的个子加上清秀的面庞透着发自内心的自信，当然也有冷面孔带着自身的傲气。可能是因为暑假刚完，学生穿着很随便，其中不少显然是刚从睡梦中醒来，真空上阵的很多。

因为对校园生活很感兴趣，我就提出能否午饭就安排在食堂里吃，一则看看如今生活水平提高后的伙食如何，顺便也通过打牙祭重新回顾久违的校园生活。与社会上数字化相同，在食堂就餐必须刷卡，因为学校食堂有补贴，对于囊中羞涩的学生和挣工资的教职工有所不同，食堂按层数分级，学生餐厅、教工餐厅和带客餐厅。学生餐厅略显嘈杂，教工餐厅就安静多了。

数十年前的大学职工食堂荤素大概有六、七个菜，主食也有三、四个品种可选，除了稀饭食堂能提供的免费汤就是米汤。个人根据爱好和预算选择，除了按价付费之外，还有包伙。小时候我也在大学食堂吃过包伙，我喜欢茄子，不论是烧茄子或是炒茄丁，只喜欢有茄子的菜，大桌上摆的菜近处较贵，而远处的就是便宜的菜。因为是包伙，好心的大师傅总告诉我选近处的菜吧，比较合算，后来才知道大师傅的好意，有烧茄子就选它，尽量不要选便宜的茄丁。

如今食堂的菜非常丰富，将近十个荤素随便选，主食也有很多种，除此之外，还有咖啡或饮料引来了洋为中用，供好这一口的的人享受，我也尝试了一口所谓新鲜咖啡，真难喝，就是加了苦味的水，看来除了口味单一外，还没学到喝咖啡的精髓。不过，多种选择的确很方便。

不大的校园，不大的食堂，鲜亮的人群加上校内不变的传统勾起了我对大学的回忆，因为我既是从小住在校园里，后来又在大学工作，很多事耳熟能详，也带有很深的情感。这次在中戏院里逛一圈有了多年久违的感觉，又在食堂吃一顿便餐，更觉感触良多。

时光流失掩盖不了已有的生活习惯，社会进步也不会摒弃好的传统，中戏让我耳目一新。

A Stroll Through the Central Academy of Drama

The name “Central Academy of Drama” consists of three words, each loaded with meaning. “Central” indicates it’s an institution within the system, funded by the state. While it’s uncertain whether it’s fully self-sustaining under current circumstances, given the famous individuals it has produced, there’s clearly a demand for the talent it nurtures. With proper policy and management, income shouldn’t be an issue. The second word, “Drama,” signifies not just a cultural emblem but a heritage that carries history. This art form is not optional but essential to support and pass down. The third word, “Academy,” takes on unique significance because, during the craze to rename academies as universities years ago, this institution quietly maintained its identity amid the bustling city, remaining true to its original purpose within Beijing’s historic center.

The Central Academy of Drama is located in a small alley called Mianhua Hutong in Beijing’s Dongcheng District, close to the popular tourist spot, Nanluoguxiang. In Beijing, few people refer to it by its full name. Mention “Central Academy of Drama,” and you might get a confused look; people might mistake it for one of the “Eight Academies.” However, say “Zhong Xi” (short for “Central Drama”), and most people will recognize it. Even in nearby areas like Kuang Jie or Nanluoguxiang, one could easily miss Zhong Xi without prior knowledge of its location.

The Central Academy of Drama is a historic school, established in the 1950s from the merging of three institutions, including the Yan’an Lu Xun Art Academy’s Drama Department. Today, the courtyard still holds a statue of former president Ouyang Yuqian, a testament to its history and tradition. Seeing this evokes memories of a strange fact from a few years back—graduates once had to replace their diplomas because the school president at the time had committed errors, which led to the diploma’s seal becoming a source of embarrassment. Yet, no one seemed to consider that this president had overseen students’ entire educational journey. Then there was the trend of schools renaming themselves, turning “Academy” into “University.” It seemed grander, but it left graduates feeling rootless.

A similar issue may arise for students themselves. Zhong Xi has produced many famous actors, many of whom have photos and brief biographies in the hallways, serving as both nostalgia for the public and motivation for the newcomers. History shows us that acknowledging someone’s achievements doesn’t mean they are faultless, and scrutinizing errors shouldn’t erase their contributions. Walking past these photos, many faces are familiar, and they bring back memories of times gone by, as some actors have since passed away. These actors, with their era-defining traits, bring back the spirit of the times and remind us of positive values that follow history’s path.

The Central Academy of Drama is a central, specialized school under direct government administration. Calling it an “Academy” rather than a “University” doesn’t diminish its status but rather reflects its commitment to focus on its specialized field. However, as the school has grown, the constraints of its inner-city location have made the campus feel cramped, especially given the high value of land in Beijing’s core. Like other schools, it has expanded by setting up a branch campus in the suburbs.

I arrived on campus around noon. The playground was rather quiet, but the cafeteria was crowded with faculty, staff, and students enjoying lunch. As expected of an art school, the students themselves were quite a sight. Stylish and attractive, the young men and women chatted and laughed, exuding confidence and charm. Some appeared indifferent, with a hint of arrogance. Possibly due to the recent end of summer break, their attire was quite casual, and many looked like they had just rolled out of bed.

Intrigued by campus life, I asked if I could have lunch in the cafeteria. I wanted to see the dining options available in today’s improved living conditions and also relive the campus experience with a modest meal. Much like the outside world, cafeteria dining here requires swiping a card, as meals are subsidized. Different levels of the cafeteria are designated for students, staff, and guests, with each level progressively quieter.

Decades ago, university cafeterias served around six or seven dishes and a selection of three to four staple foods. Aside from congee, free soup was usually just rice water. Diners could choose according to their preferences and budget, paying per item or subscribing to a set meal plan. As a child, I often dined at the university cafeteria with a meal plan, and I loved eggplant, whether braised or diced. I always picked dishes with eggplant, usually selecting the pricier dishes closer to me, as suggested by a friendly chef, who advised me that it was more worthwhile.

Today, cafeteria food is incredibly varied, offering nearly ten dishes and several staple foods to choose from, along with coffee and other drinks. I even tried what was labeled “fresh coffee” but found it quite bitter, like flavored water. While my palate wasn’t quite suited to it, I could see the convenience of having such a range of options.

The small campus, modest cafeteria, lively crowd, and preserved traditions stirred up memories of my own university days. Having grown up on campus and later worked in a university, I have deep personal ties to campus life. Wandering through Zhong Xi’s campus, having a simple meal in the cafeteria, evoked feelings that had long lain dormant.

Time can’t erase the habits formed through lived experiences, and progress doesn’t discard good traditions. The Central Academy of Drama gave me a refreshing, nostalgic experience.