After a rural girl migrated for education
Roots in Rural Education
Thirty years ago, a girl was born in an impoverished village in Pingxiang, Jiangxi, China. She spent eight years at a rural primary school with about 200 students. The old school building had never been renovated; during the rainy season, heavy rains would leak through the tile gaps into the dim classrooms filled with mismatched old wooden desks and chairs. The teachers, using a wooden stick, taught in the local dialect, focusing solely on Chinese and math classes. Subjects like English, art, and science were conspicuously absent from the curriculum.
After graduating from primary school, more than half of her classmates faced dropping out of middle school or failing to get into high school. disinterest in learning, academic struggles, and bleak prospects plagued many of them. Teachers often deemed these students unfit for academics, and parents, constrained by their economic and educational limitations, could offer little support. Migrating to the city to become migrant workers seemed like the only viable path.
The girl's parents tirelessly tended to various farming tasks and raised livestock in their village, where the per capita income was extremely low. At the age of four, her father initiated morning runs, using animals and natural elements from their surroundings to teach her mathematics and encourage her to write observation journals. Meanwhile, her mother fostered an environment where the girl could freely express herself through drawing and decorating the white walls of their home. The support and companionship of her parents imbued the girl with a profound sense of confidence about her future.
The girl wanted to attend a private middle school located farther away in the county town instead of a closer option. This decision increased the financial burden on her family and required her to live a boarding school life away from her parents. In the small, underdeveloped county town, she could feel the gap between urban and rural areas. Her tanned skin, plain clothes, and shorter stature set her apart from her city-born classmates. She had her first opportunity to learn the 26 English letters, while her classmates in the city had already participated in various extracurricular activities after school. Many subjects and topics in the textbooks felt entirely new to her and distant from her rural life experiences.
However, she was diligent and enthusiastic about learning, consistently achieving top rankings in her class. She took on responsibilities such as class president and actively participating in sports events. Her academic prowess led her to join the honors class at a prominent high school. Challenges arose during her first year there when the school prioritized grades and scores, prompting her to read and write in her diary secretly.
"Getting into the Communication University of China to become a journalist and communicator, spreading knowledge and happiness to others" was the dream she wrote on her wish wall in her senior year.
At this point, you might think this is a story of a girl who worked hard, got into a prestigious university, and transformed her life through migration from rural to urban for education.
However, it isn’t. For a rural girl in China, relying solely on hard work without access to quality educational resources, and motivation from those around her, the chances of getting into a top university are slim. She failed the college entrance exam. Her 12 years of study culminated in a score far below her previous exams. Facing her first major setback after years of smooth sailing, she ended up at a second-tier university outside her province to study journalism, with tears of stubbornness, disappointment, and unwillingness.
The ordinary village girl in this story is me.
For years, education offered me an opportunity to move beyond my hometown. Yet, the public school education I experienced framed education solely as a tool to "escape rural poverty," emphasizing competition over cooperation, prioritizing goals over the learning process, and fostering an environment where criticism and suppression overshadowed appreciation and recognition. These perspectives instilled in me a sense of shame regarding my rural roots, nurturing a misplaced pride in distancing oneself from rural life as the ultimate ambition.
I held a negative attitude towards these values and felt something was wrong.
Awakening through Social Change
In 2013, first year of college, I discovered that DanDangZhe Action, a grassroots NGO founded by people from rural areas. Their mission was to empower every rural child through reading. This ignited my journey into NGOs and social change—I became a volunteer to teach rural children in summer vacation, cycling for 15 days with four volunteers and raising funds for building a library for two village schools.
In Taiwan, as an exchange student, I engaged in volunteer activities and experienced the differences in education, politics, and culture and wrote the book "Amber of Time". In Hong Kong, I met with global social innovators focused on vulnerable groups, human destiny, and environmental issues. These experiences made me ask where I came from.
In college in China, despite consistently achieving top grades, I was often seen as an "outlier" by other teachers and classmates. I embarked on a journey of self-discovery, learning to forsake superficial concerns about background. I abandoned conformity, distancing myself from societal expectations and the pursuit of external achievements. My transformation came from embracing my love for and sense of belonging to my rural roots.
Neared university graduation, I told my father over the phone that I wanted to give up the graduate entrance exams and instead intended to work in an NGO to become a change-maker. Soon, his voice came through the line, saying, "This is something you've always been passionate about and is meaningful. Changing the rural education is challenging, but someone needs to lead the way."
After hanging up the phone, I cried loudly. For the accumulated anxiety and pressure of four years in University, for the loneliness and misunderstanding of recent years, I finally could give up unnecessary self-proving and dared to face my inner choices. Some things can wait, but the future of rural children cannot wait.
Connecting through Service
During my work at an NGO, I witnessed rural children from different regions in China: In Lingyuan, Liaoning, a second-grader cried on the playground, saying, "I miss my dad."; In Yiliang, Yunnan, a child walked an hour to school in winter, covered in mud; In Dangchang, Gansu, a child had a one-yuan pack of instant noodles for lunch, eating from the packaging filled with hot water; In Weining, Guizhou, children studied in classrooms despite the dust in the air.
The current generation of rural children in China is navigating a more complex landscape shaped by urban-to-rural migration and its pervasive influence. Without intrinsic motivation, without the opportunity to discover and develop their unique potential during childhood, and lacking the essential encouragement, and guidance from nurturing adults and teachers, how will these children effectively confront the challenges in the years to come?
Through the Fun Science initiative, I and my teammates connected with scientists, educators, and volunteers to provide hands-on, fun, exploratory science classes and resources to millions of rural children. We introduced innovative educational concepts and methods to rural teachers, aiming to inspire a love for learning and critical thinking among students.
I will always remember the joy and enthusiasm of the rural children as they clapped and exclaimed that science was fun. They eagerly participated in hands-on activities, believing in their abilities, asking countless questions, and nurturing diverse dreams.
New Horizons and Challenges
During the pandemic, I felt my strength waning. Eventually, I left the Fun Science team. By 2023, I was fortunate to be accepted into the UCL IOE master's program of Education, Gender, and International Development to enhance my academic research capabilities. Accompanying me on this journey were my ten-month-old child and my partner.
As a first-generation university student from a rural background, an immigrant, and a parent, my current life presents numerous new challenges. I worried about my capability to survive and thrive in London, and to realize my full potential. Yet, amidst these uncertainties, I am acutely aware of my privilege and fortune. In China, the likelihood for rural children to attend prestigious universities is decreasing, not to mention studying abroad. This learning journey leads me to reflect deeply on whether education and what kinds of education can genuinely promote social justice and equity.
I believe genuine education empowers individuals to find a sense of belonging wherever they go and equips them with the ability to love. While a restricted environment may temporarily limit one's perspective, it cannot permanently hinder an individual—especially someone committed to breaking barriers and fostering positive change in the world. Just as Sen’s capability approach argues that the goal of human development and poverty reduction should be to expand the capability that people have to enjoy ‘valuable beings and doings’, education plays a crucial role in broadening these capabilities and enabling individuals to contribute meaningfully to society.
