Despite government efforts to promote equal rights in the
nine-year compulsory education for all of China's children, migrant
workers are still finding it difficult to get their children
enrolled in urban school systems unless they can afford the
exorbitant extra fees.
Indeed, education is not yet a given but "something bought" for his
daughter, complains Sun Zhao, an employee at an auto parts shop in
Beijing. Sun has had his daughter admitted by a public school in
Beijing after paying the school a handsome amount of extra money
called "a donation." And that's because the Suns are not registered
permanent residents of the city.
Moving to the capital in 1998 from his native Shaanxi
Province, Northwest China, Sun has to earn at least 50,000 yuan
(US$6,040) a year to put his child through primary school and raise
his family.
"These days no money means no education, although teachers might
treat the children equally at school," Sun said.
Financial hardship has blocked the road to school for many children
of migrant workers. Next door to the Suns live a migrant couple who
make a living by running a family-style restaurant. "The business
brings our family only 1,000 yuan (US$120) a month. We cannot
afford to send our son to a public school here, which asks for a
donation of 12,000 yuan (US$1,450)," says Lu Chaoguang, the wife.
The couple live in a 12-square-metre rented room, the front of
which functions as the restaurant.
The 30-year old mother says there is one alternative - enrolling
her little boy in a school run by migrants like herself, which
costs only 50 yuan (US$6) a semester. But having misgivings about
the teaching quality of the school, she refuses to do so. "I would
like my child to receive a good education in a State-run school
here. But, since we can't afford that, we've sent our boy to a
school in our hometown," Lu said.
For the children of migrant workers at issue is not just the
difficulty of enrolment but the very right to education. "Asking
migrant workers to pay extra schooling fees for their children is
discrimination," said Han Jialing, a sociologist with the Beijing
Academy of Social Sciences.
Most migrant workers in cities are from rural areas and earn
little. A survey of migrants in Beijing by Professor Han last year
said that 20.2 percent of 31,000 migrant families surveyed live on
500 yuan (US$60) or so a month, 43.2 percent on 500-1,000 yuan
(US$60-120). "This means public schools in Beijing are financially
off limits for the children of migrant workers," she says.
Today, the number of migrant workers' children exceeds 240,000 in
Beijing. About 400 unofficial schools run by social workers,
volunteers and educators have in recent years sprung up throughout
the city to fill a need. "But these schools are poorly equipped, in
terms of both facilities and teaching resources," says an education
authority in Beijing, estimating that 80,000 to 90,000 migrants'
children now attend these schools.
"Without a good education, they will find it almost impossible to
get decent jobs in the future," a spokesman said.
Government policy is changing, however. To open the city's school
system for the children of migrant workers, the Beijing municipal
government has recently urged public schools in the city to scrap
"temporary school fees," usually a whopping 20,000 yuan (US$2,410),
to ensure that these children receive at least nine years'
compulsory education.
The Beijing Municipal Education Commission has specified that the
children of migrant workers pay the same amount as urban pupils, a
maximum of 267 yuan (US$32) for each semester at primary school and
355 yuan (US$42) for junior high school.
More gov't input needed
These are indeed good intentions. But the reality is usually
different. Schools can always find ways to collect money, says
Professor Han.
"Instead of temporary school fees or a 'donation,' schools may
invent some other names for charges on admissions," she said.
China spends 2 percent of its GDP on education, which is a far cry
from the internationally recommended 6 percent. The country now has
19.8 million migrant worker children under the age of 18. Nearly
half of them cannot go to school and 9.3 percent of them drop
out.
The central government adopted a policy in 2002 requiring local
finance departments to provide funds for the education of these
children and give financial support to schools with a big
proportion of them. During the 2000-02 period, the Beijing
municipal government earmarked an extra 5 million yuan (US$602,410)
to districts with a concentration of migrant workers. This year it
has allocated another 35 million yuan (US$4.2 million) to help the
children attend school.
To some extent, according to one high school principal, the central
government is shifting financial responsibility to local
governments, which are in turn shifting it to schools.
That's where problems arise, says Professor Han. "When schools
accepting migrant workers' children do not receive enough funds
from the government, some of them have to ask the students for
money," she says.
Other hurdles
Lin Bao, a researcher with the Institute of Population and Labour
Economics, says that although the central government has worked out
policies to lower the threshold for the enrolment of migrant
workers' children, there are no guidelines on how many children
should or must enroll in each school.
The situation for migrant worker children already enrolled in high
school is just as hard. They have to go back to their hometowns to
finish high school if they want to go to college. They cannot take
college entrance exams at a place where they don't have permanent
residence permits.
And there are other complications. For example, Beijing uses
textbooks that are different from ones used in the rest of the
country. "That's another reason few schools are willing to admit
children of migrant workers," Professor Lin says.
Because they are barred from taking college entrance examinations,
their schools will inevitably have lower rates of graduates
entering institutions of higher learning, in turn damaging their
reputation, Lin says. "That's why urban schools raise the enrolment
threshold for these pupils by charging exorbitant fees," he
says.
Some lofty-minded educators in Beijing are trying to turn their
public schools into schools for migrant children only. "These
children can go to these schools and are free to transfer to others
any time. The local finance department will give cash according to
the size of the enrolment," says a government official in Beijing's
Haidian District, in China's "Silicon Valley," where migrants make
up almost 50 percent of the population.
The unofficial schools will get help from district governments to
improve their basic conditions, including dismantling unsafe school
buildings and adding bigger classrooms.
But the children cannot wait. Amending the old system should be
kept separate from children's education, according to a spokesman
at the Beijing-based Rural Development Institute. "The central
government should provide more money for the education of migrant
workers' children and take the most responsibility," he says.
Professor Lin believes the issue concerns the government's
long-term commitment to public service. All children should have
the right to a nine-year compulsory education. "No one has the
right to delay school for children just because they come from a
rural area or their parents cannot afford the fees," he said.
Sun Zhao's daughter is lucky. Her father has left struggling times
behind and is financially capable of putting her through high
school in Beijing. Sun is able to take his daughter to the
bookshops, and expand her own private library. He has high hopes
for her. "Being born in a rural family is not a child's fault. We
are trying our best to provide her with a good education no matter
how hard it is," Sun says.
(China Daily November 4, 2004)