Still, he’ll tell you his favourite books are children’s classics by Roald Dahl.
Despite the academic headlines, Michael is quick to dispel the image of a bookworm. Raymond takes swimming lessons, does karate, rides his scooter with friends, wakes up a bit grumpy on school mornings and races to class to play before the bell. Their lounge is strewn with train tracks, board games and whiteboard doodles. He and his younger sister were playing Monopoly earlier – a game, which like any sibling, he sometimes loses.
“Just by the look of all the toys scattered around here, I did try to strike a balance between his study time, and I have actually tried to make it fun for him as well,” Michael says.
Raymond Hsu playing Monopoly with his sister at home. Photo / Michael Hsu
He noticed Raymond’s aptitude early. Growing up in a multi-generational household, immersed in two languages and cultures, sparked a deep curiosity, he believes. By 6, Raymond was reading teenage novels. By 7, he was exploring social sciences. In Years 2 and 3, he was asking advanced mathematical questions.
Convincing the education system, however, was another matter. Michael says getting Raymond recognised as gifted – and enrolled in programmes to match – was an uphill battle. The youngest students in such programmes were typically in Year 8.
“I actually contacted quite a few schools at the time, and a lot of them didn’t get back to me, and some did, but saying, ‘you’re too young for this’. Even NZQA at the time said that as well …
“They [the teachers] were probably thinking, ‘here’s another parent who thinks they’ve got [a gifted child]’ …
“But I also do understand in public schools they are not catering for a kind of giftedness. Like, he’s in the giftedness group at the school, but we actually can’t remember when the last time was that we went for a group meeting or activity like that.”
Raymond Hsu was only an observer as a ‘reserve’ at a Wellington maths competition for schoolchildren in 2025. Photo / Michael Hsu
With Raymond frequently coming home with no homework left to do, Michael looked at home-learning and a weekend maths class as a chance to develop his knowledge. At 9, Raymond was able to take his first exams via a “Link School” – a mainstream school that manages NCEA assessments, often for home-schooled students.
“I wanted to sort of give him a bit of structure with his learning, because otherwise, he diversifies quite a bit, kind of say, ‘okay, let’s focus on your basics – reading, writing, and math’, and ‘well, there’s some tests that you can do, and I’m sure you could do that, so let’s use that as an objective’.”
Teachers were hesitant about moving Raymond up a year, citing his introversion in class as one reason. Yet they also noticed how animated he was around close friends, Michael says. When he mentions Raymond’s cheeky, teenage-style comebacks, the boy buries his face in his hands, laughing.
“He’s not mixing up with teenagers as such, but he’s sometimes got himself into a bit of a teenager mind and then doesn’t want to go to bed too early.”
Raymond Hsu stands among the teenagers, ready to take his NCEA exams. Photo / Michael Hsu
The school ultimately recommended Raymond stay in Year 6 this year, concerned about the influence of older peers – their foremost focus on wellbeing. There is the potential of negative influences, Michael acknowledges, just as there would be anywhere.
“I guess one of the reasons we read other people’s stories, read about nature, read about society – I would hope to embed the kind of concept of what is appropriate sort of environment for him, and he will be able to tell positive ones from the negative ones and adopt his own sort of attitude.
“I’ve sort of been standing on the sideline, been giving my ideas about what is right and what is wrong, but I sort of leave it for him to determine. I will say I’ve been assisting him to minimise the negative influences.”
Raymond Hsu writes about economics in preparation for his exams. Photo / Michael Hsu
There’s also the burden of stereotype – those that view him as an “Asian maths genius”. In fact, literature is his favourite subject, and he found Level 2 maths challenging. When asked how long he studied for the exams, he shrugs but nods in agreement that it was hard.
“My personal experience is you kind of run into those kind of stereotypes,” Michael says. “But it just means I had to sort of communicate properly [what Raymond’s interests are].”
Despite his achievements, Raymond doesn’t boast. He didn’t seem to have plans to tell his friends about his exam results. When he’s with peers his own age, Michael says, studying rarely comes up.
Raymond playing around at home after finishing his exams. Photo / Michael Hsu
For Michael, the journey of learning and embracing mistakes matters more than the grades. One Cambridge maths exam came back ungraded, prompting a review of the answers. Raymond also earned a passing E in a Cambridge English literature paper.
“But I guess E is not showing a failure, Raymond, right? If anything, it shows that you have deep understanding of this 16-, 17-year-old literature and English kind of material.”
Learning, meanwhile, has become a bonding exercise between father and son, Michael says. At one point mid-talk, he turns to Raymond: “What’s the word – It’s not labourous – what is the adjective for labour?”
“Laborious,” his son quietly responds.
“All right, thank you,” Michael smiles. “He’s going to teach me one day, not just his sister.”
As for what the future holds, Raymond is “not thinking about anything” right now, but his father says he’s indicated some interest in politics papers.
“One day,” he says to his son. “I hope you’re going to write a book about ‘how I was navigating it through as a migrant’s child in New Zealand growing up in public school’.”