To fill this need, Compassion for Migrant Children establishes community centers in the heart of migrant communities. Children come to our centers every day to receive homework help in our after-school program. On Saturdays, they receive English instruction from native speakers. When it first began, CMC quickly realized that to help a child, one must provide support to everyone who has an influence in that child's life, including teachers and parents. As a result, our centers also provide teacher training and personal and family development workshops. Over time, a community center can become the nucleus of the migrant community and a means through which migrants can find stability and a support network.

The first time I visited an after school program, a migrant mother approached me to shake my hand and thanked me profusely. Embarrassed, I wanted to tell her, "There is really no reason to thank me," but my poor language skills at the time limited me to repeating "you're welcome" about ten times. I was greatly moved by the entire experience, not simply because she had been so genuinely appreciative, but because she reminded me so much of my own mother.

When I was three, my mother decided to leave behind her comfortable life in Vietnam and move our family to the States. She saw more opportunities for her children in America and was willing to relinquish the comforts of middle class life for low wages and long hours of work. Likewise, the many migrant mothers now living in Beijing have left a simpler life back in the rural countryside for a complicated life in a city where their wages are quickly eaten up by the high cost of living. My mother's resistance to failure and need to maintain a facade of strength was what she believed to be the best way to protect her children. This is a characteristic not uncommon among the migrant mothers I currently serve in China. I always try to remember this when I visit community centers in Beijing. What is it that motivates mothers to uproot their families for a life of uncertainty? It is the hope that in this uncertainty, they will find promise for their children.

When considering what might be the best way to improve the lives of migrants and to alleviate the impoverished states many of them live in, many people turn to the hot topic of the hour—China's hukou (residence permit) system. Some argue that the hukou is the only way to properly distribute resources in an overpopulated country. Others view the hukou as a remnant from an obsolete economic and social system that makes no sense in China's dynamic modern economy.

It is not my intention to use this article to advocate policy change. I realize I am new to the country and am well aware of my limited experience of Chinese realities. However, in honor of International Migrants Day, I would like to suggest that we focus not simply on statistics, but on individual stories. This will remind us why it is important to not forget those who have made our comfortable lives possible.

The author is a Chinese American who currently works and lives in Beijing.