I never thought that the most impressive Chinese woman I would have the pleasure of interviewing would have been a so-called “illiterate country bumpkin”(Qiu, 29.8). But Spring Grass was so much more than that. She possessed an extraordinary work ethic, which she wielded to change her fate and fight against urban-rural discrimination. She was both traditional yet modern, perfectly unique, representative of the shifting zeitgeist in China from 1960 to the early 2000’s.
I first met Spring Grass when I was invited to a dinner party hosted by Mrs. Tsai, an acquaintance I had made during my studies abroad, during the summer of 1996 (Qiu, 29). For the three years beforehand, I had been gathering information on the current phenomenon of private migrant children’s schools popping up in the suburban areas of Chinese cities (Pong, 48).After the mass migration of rural workers to the outskirts of Chinese cities in the late 20th century, the number of school-age migrant children increased dramatically (Wang, 698). Since many of these migrant workers faced discrimination in wages and work-hours, they often could not afford to send their students to city-schools (Wang 696). As a result, most migrant children were sent to pop-up private schools. Unlike in America, private schools are actually of worse quality than public schools, as they are not funded by the government, the teachers are not as qualified, and they lack proper equipment (Wang, 701). However, I learned through Principal Lin, a friend of Mrs. Tsai, that Spring Grass managed to get her kids into a public school through hard work and the use of connections, or as they are known in China, guanxi.
Over dinner, it became apparent that Spring Grass was exceptional. She had bags under her eyes darker than the night sky yet her eyes shone with an ambitious light. I called Mrs. Tsai inquired about Spring Grass, who told me where I could find her. When I went to see her, even though it was a Sunday, I only found her children, Richie and Penny at home, who told me that their mother was working.
“Your mother is still out working, on a Sunday?” I commented.
The younger one, Richie, stared at me absentmindedly while mouthing xiongmao, the Chinese word for Panda. White people like myself were rare to see, even in Chinese cities, so I was probably the first “Panda” he had ever encountered.
“Our mama’s always out late working” the young girl piped up. She had a little more of a spark in her eyes than her brother. “She once worked so hard she fainted!” Penny seemed almost proud of this fact. I pressed further.
“Oh really? How many hours do you think she usually works?”
“She gets up before the sun, and works well after the sun goes down”, Penny replied, her courage growing. “She wants me and Richie to become city-people, so she works hard to send us to a city-school”.
I was thoroughly impressed. Mrs. Tsai had told me that Spring Grass worked hard, but I never expected this amount of rigor. Even though, after some quick calculations based on the average wage rate, it became apparent that she was just scraping by, and most likely was still looking for a long term solution to keep paying for the bi-annual educational fees (Qiu, 30.5).
“And your mama does this all by herself?” I asked, probing deeper to see how she covered the high cost of education.
“She does!” Penny piped up, her eyes brimming with pride. “She tells us our baba used to also provide for us, but I haven’t seen him in several years. She says he’s going to come home soon…”
At that point, Spring Grass came home. She agreed to answer some burning questions of mine while she prepared dinner. I started off by learning her story. How she was born into a traditional family, where her mother’s intense work ethic had been instilled into her. How she was denied her educational opportunities, and rebelled against her Mother’s wishes in her marriage with husband. How she defied the odds not once but twice in the entrepreneurial world, but left out how she lost her wealth. It was a riveting tale, one which myself, Penny, and Richie all listened to in awe, their feeling of affection and respect for their mother only deepening. I then began to ask her questions regarding her children’s education.
“Could you tell me how your kids ended up attending Principal Lin’s school?” I asked.
“Oh, well it was really thanks to Mrs. Lin, she’s helped me a great deal. She took a likin’ to my work around the house, and even cared for me when I fell sick a few months back. She so politely offered to get my kids into her school, even exempting me from the additional fees against non-local households”
Migrant workers faced many kinds of discrimination in their efforts to adapt to city life. Not only were their wages lower and their work hours longer, but in the pursuit of their children’s education, they faced several exclusionary fees (Wang, 696). Being exempted from these allowed Spring Grass to send her kids to city school.
“How did it feel to send your kids to a city-school?” I then asked.
She stopped for a second, a smile fixed on her face as she remembered standing for hours outside the gates of her kids school, her heart overflowing with happiness (Qiu, 30.4)
“It was one of the happiest days of my life when I first dropped off Richie and Penny at a city school.When I was young, I was awarded first in my class for middle school, but my mama forced me to withdraw. I want my moppets to become city people, and the public school system is the only way. Getting them into school felt like… felt like my dream”.
I let her bask in her joy for a few seconds, before prying deeper.
“What is the hardest part about your children attending a city school?”
Spring Grass paused in her work, her brow furrowing. She opened her mouth to speak but Richie got their first, saying “Sometimes the city kids call me names…. Xiaolongbao (people from rural areas)… they are not friendly” (Wang, 697). His sister comforted him by rubbing his shoulder. Spring Grass cleared her throat and said,
“Yes, sometimes I’ve been called those names too, but I don’t think too much of them. It’s the cost us country folk must pay for our lives to be richer (Wang, 697).
Spring Grass was not alone in this attitude. China has this unique housing registration system hukou, which separates people based on their urban or rural background. Urban hukou’s have more access to better jobs, housing, and education, which gave way to the cultural divide between rural and urban folk. However, it is still rural people’s dream to become city people, bearing the discrimination and hardships they face along the way. Spring Grass’s soul of bamboo spirit allowed her to overcome these hardships and send her kids on the path of a city person, but many other migrants were unable to do the same. One of whom I encountered was Sister Zhang.
I ran into Sister Zhang as she was dropping her kids off for school at an old shoe factory (Pong, 51). After some small talk was exchanged, she agreed to answer some questions.
“Are your children in school currently? If so, how are they finding it?”
She shuffled her feet before begrudgingly saying that her kids were currently enrolled in one of the unregistered private schools for migrant children nearby. Not only was the quality of education much poorer at the unregistered facility, but the grounds were unsanitary there as well (Wang, 699). She told me how she had to hand wash her children every day after they came home from school (Wang, 699).
There were two types of private schools that emerged in the 1990’s: registered and unregistered. These unregistered private schools were even worse than the registered ones. They often had minimal hardware, were highly unhygienic, and the teachers would sometimes be absent (Wang, 693).
However, she remained optimistic, especially after hearing how Spring Grass was single handedly taking care of her moppets and using guanxi to overcome societal barriers. At the end, I asked her if she believes that she can get her children into the public school system, and she replied,
“Fate is something that can change, you know. Look at me, I’ve come here to the city, so my fate is different from what it was before.”(Qiu, 18.12)
Chinese migrant workers may have the ability to change their own fate, and they definitely can influence their kids’ destiny. Working hard to earn their children a spot in the public school system, as Spring Grass did, puts their heritage on the path to success: an urban hukou and a chance for a successful career.
Word Count: 1496
Works Cited:
Pong, Myra. “The Growth and Development of Migrant Schools in Beijing”, 2015, pp 47-56
Qiu, Shanshan. “Spring Grass”, Chapters 17-27
Wang, Lu. “The Marginality of Migrant Children in the Urban Chinese Educational System”, British Journal of Sociology of Education, 2008, pp 691-703