Migration

As this leg of the journey ends, I prepare my heart to welcome what constitutes the culmination of months of preparation. In less than an hour, I will be heading to the middle school that I will be living at, doing research and a little teaching simultaneously.

The past few weeks have centered around a project that we just finished about teacher incentives at migrant schools. Having a chance to work with Renmin University students has been an honor and pleasure on par with my experiences with Nanjing University students. In both cases, we've collaborated on projects or toward a common goal, and there is a camaraderie and warmth that affects me deeply. Although there are times of disagreement or frustration (as we discussed last night while shopping in Xidan district, Chinese and American minds often tick differently), I'm grateful for this opportunity to connect with local students.

As a nascent anthropologist, I find Beijing a city of conflicting themes. Beauty and ugliness, modern and ancient, the sublime mixed with the mundane, extravagance in dire contrast to the squalor that others live in. There is deep-seated pride in being Chinese; in having an Asian heritage, but the Western ways of life have an irresistible allure. My first club/bar experience two nights ago suggested one of the most troubling and interesting divides between the generations, with new expressions of Chinese 'youthfulness' developing within a fragmented system.

My work with migrant schools has shown me precisely the same themes, but in sharper relief, and the stakes are that much higher. Schools are a locus of social mobility; one doesn't climb a social ladder without a praxis/habits befitting of high class. And where does one find the habits and tastes that are socially recognized as 'classy?' School. At the same time, they've been placed in a situation where a high class education is not a viable option, and a second class education most often generates second class citizens (all these terms are subjective, but like 'race,' they have very real ramifications). Some of them go straight to work, others return home to test into high school. They are citizens but still treated as outsiders; they are legally allowed to go to high levels of education but cannot.

A discourse of ethical treatment of migrants is developing, but it has yet to permeate all levels of society. If anything, the people of China are conflicted about whether it is ethical to devote equal resources to the migrants. One isn't surprised that the Malthusian underpinnings of the One Child Policy (rightfully?) translates to fears that having swells of migrants come to the city will overwhelm its resources. For the migrants, many still inspired by socialist ideals of equality, this ethical reasoning generates further contradiction.

As such, migrants are lodged in limbo. One one hand, they are placed on a pedestal by liberal professors, reporters, foreign NGOs, etc. who provide the students with resources and the teachers with training. On the other, they are marginalized by public school principals who would rather wish the migrants return home to continue their schooling rather than sapping resources from the public school students. Legally, they are allowed to stay in the city and receive education, but decentralization has characterized the Chinese educational system since the 1980s. Local governments are supposed to pay for the education of migrants, but the central government really doesn't want to force them to take migrant students for free.

Personally, I am excited most about how these middle school students will respond. They are coming of age within a multiplicity of contradictory discourses, all framed by rapid economic prosperity. Where do ideas like 'right to education' or 'equality' come in? Most importantly, what does education mean to these students--an education meant to prepare them for a Brave New World that has few promises of certainty?

And even while I've been hard at work studying the migrants, I am faint from my attempts to deal with the dizzying discord in my own life. With less than 40 minutes to go, I'm both excited and terrified of what lies ahead. First and foremost, will I have peers to talk to freely? Will I be able to fit in? Will I be comfortable teaching and doing research? Will I be welcomed? I'm both deeply inspired and tired of this topic, having ready countless reports (oh, but with so many more unread!), conducted several interviews, and talked ad nauseum about certain topics in the field. I feel like the narrator in Season of Migration to the North, discovering in myself a contemporary Mustafa... full of conflict in my identities, only this time it's East and West.

This thought brings me some clarity: I am a migrant among migrants, both literally and figuratively. I am a transnational without much semblance of home, dealing with my own issues as I migrate across the Pacific. It is in this stream of consciousness that I recall the promises of my firm identity as a Christian... a permanent home awaiting my return independent of my performance here, a relationship that staves away lonliness independent of those around me.

One doesn't move without taking a step, I guess. The Nile keeps on moving =p.