Mellifluous

Here's the rub: I keep having the same dream. It's the one where it is somehow already the last day of school, and I realize I haven't shown up to any of my classes all year. My dream sequence flashes between Spanish class or math class or science lab. All my combined years of classmates are there, the years of schooling are intertwined. It's fourth grade on the Kansas playground, I'm cold and I can't zip up my jacket; then I'm flashed forward to high school, but instead of my suburban New Jersey classroom, I'm in a Boston University cafe studying communications theory. Then I am thrust back into the disquiet of my dream, sitting in my middle school cafeteria, and I realize I haven't finished a single school project while I am biting into my bologna sandwich. Is that Michael Jackson sitting next to me reciting Chinese poetry? I can't speak a word of Spanish. My calculus teacher is rehearsing Shakespeare instead of working out equations on the blackboard. I'm being tortured over chemistry compounds, and can't figure out why my Bunsen burner won't light correctly, but I'm fully costumed in an outfit that resembles a sheep's tail dancing around my college theater stage. There are not enough dream dictionaries that can sort out all of my hidden anxieties.

I am the girl who was supposed to keep a journal all semester, tomorrow is the due date, and I haven't written a single word. Time to break out the different colored pens to make it look like I was a diligent student.

Over two weeks ago, I stepped out of my dream world and into an actual classroom where I have a chalkboard, desks, overhead flickering fluorescent lights, a dais which seems way to formal (and on which I do not stand for too long), and most importantly five bright and enthusiastic Chinese high school students eager to learn more, more, more English. The time we spend together at the Dandelion School for two or three or more hours, is a way for the students to add flavor to their six years of textbook English. But they are already way past simple phrases and can tell me stories full of imagination and zest. I envy the way in which these students swallow up the banquet of English words and phrases, whereas I can only pick at my plate of Chinese syllables, scraping the sounds across my tongue.

These students come from an education system in China that is complicated and is compounded by the government's often neglectful stance toward the children of its migrant worker population -- a population of "people who are born and registered in [China's] countryside...but [who] travel to [the nation's] cities to live and work" (BBC online, 11/1/10).  According to the BBC online report on November 1, the recent Chinese government census could reveal a number as high as 200 million migrant workers nationwide. In a city of nearly 22 million people, it is difficult to count the number of migrant workers and their families who now call Beijing their home.The migrant workers who live in the nation's cities without holding proper documentation - a resident identity card called a hukou- are denied access to necessities like health care and formal quality education for their also unregistered children.  For those who are legally registered, the law states that children have the right to nine years of compulsory education. The system made progress five years ago when the Dandelion School opened its doors to the children of migrant workers. In doing so, Beijing and its government publicly declared its approval. The school remains (the first and) only government sanctified middle school providing formal education under the guidelines of State Compulsory Education Law to migrant children.

The five students with whom I meet every other Friday are graduates of the Dandelion School, and are making great strides towards succeeding despite their many obstacles. Obstacles that include coming from poor, rural families who still live with the financial pressures and the social embarrassment of having more than one child. These students all come from loving families that sacrifice more than just time and money to ensure they succeed past middle school and high school. By the time I reach the school around 2:00 PM, an hour from my apartment by taxi, the students have already put in a full day of high school, a full week without seeing their families, and have traveled an hour to meet me. They postpone their weekends and getting to see their families so that they can improve their English speaking skills, their listening comprehension, and their critical thinking about community. During our "English only" sessions, the students improve upon sharing their personal narratives so that they can continue to improve the narrative itself.

The first Friday I met with the students, I had more jitters than any of my own years of "first day of school" nerves combined. But, almost immediately after arriving, I was eased by the familiarity of their teenage expressions. I could tell right away from their smiling faces that they enjoy returning to the school, visiting their former teachers and principal, saying hello to classmates and hugging siblings who might also have the opportunity to attend the Dandelion School.

I hesitate to speak specifically about each of the five students because I do not want to simplify or water down their stories. Also, I have not yet asked their permission to write about them individually in my public space, so I will not do so now. But it is important to tell you that this is not a debate about the education system in China versus the education system in the United States. It is in part a recognition of five students and their families who, despite carrying the weight of the world on their backs, make education a priority in their lives. They create meaning and value when others want to deny them that right. After many, many months, these five students have finally settled into a high school routine. Even when they were dismissed from one vocational school or high school after another, or they chose to repeat an entire grade because their new school system lacked a more challenging curriculum, they continue exude optimism, maturity, strength and humor. I see these great qualities in them already, and I have only known them for a few weeks!

In the moments I feel like I can't possibly know what I am doing with these students, their conversation brings me back into the moment and washes away my doubt; they are full of questions, observations and light. Last Friday, one of the girls chose to share the word "mellifluous" from her Language Journal which I have assigned to them. Mellifluous! I did my best smooth scat impression to help her define the word (as in "The jazz singer had a mellifluous voice") only after I secretly looked it up first myself. Each Friday afternoon, I learn a lot in the three hours that fly by so quickly.  We always have more to discuss and to learn from each other. I am lucky and thrilled to be connected with the Dandelion School and these exceptional students in a small way. I hope to continue to share my stories and experiences with you for as long as I am in Beijing.

If you want to learn more about migrant school children, there is a lot of information on the world wide web about the subject. Click on this link to hear more about the Dandelion School itself in an NPR story from 2009.