Showing posts with label China-People-Garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label China-People-Garden. Show all posts
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Rider proves she's not just horsing around
China-People-Garden
Young girl shows her toughness through determined training
CHENGDU , Sichuan - Her training as a ballet dancer has served Tian Yu well in her bid to be a top equestrian ."I have learned how to balance myself ," said the 16-year-old . A member of the national youth equestrian team , Tian won a bronze in the jumping challenge at a youth event of the International Federation for Equestrian Sports in South Korea in April .A month later , she won a gold in the jumping challenge at the International Equestrian Masters in the National Stadium in Beijing .Tian is conspicuous at events because there are not many woman equestrian athletes in the country -many parents do not want their daughters , mostly only children , to get involved and the practice is not covered by any insurance ."To be an equestrian , a woman has to be strong , be patient and work harder than a male counterpart ,"Tian said . Because of her studies at the Beijing National Day School , a State-run middle school , Tian can only practice about twice a week after school . During summer and winter vacations , she practices in the Jingcheng Horse Club in Beijing 's Daxing district every day , even on biting cold winter days .Last winter , the skin on the back of her hands cracked and became infected because of the cold ,but she did not stop training .Even during the Spring Festival she only took one day off .Training can be repetitious and boring , and each day Tian has to ride between four and six horses .She became interested in horses at the age of four when she visited a horse club in a Beijing suburb and with the help of a coach sat on a horse and rode .She started formal training at age eight .Though she has rarely fallen , her worst accident was when she tumbled while practicing on a course in Hebei province . Lying on the field , she lost consciousness for about 20 seconds and bloodied her right hand .When she came to , instead of crying she stood up without the help of her coach , Ji Yuping ."Unlike other girls , Tian is strong-minded ," Ji said . Equestrian athletes in the country do not receive much education . But Tian insists she should attend college and major in literature or English .Despite frequent competitions , Tian has distinguished herself as a top student .The principal of her school allows Tian to finish her schoolwork and send it to teachers via the Internet when she is away for a competition ."I like horse riding but won 't make it my profession ," Tian said . China-People-Garden
Guardian honored to protect the community
China-People-Garden
GUANGZHOU - Xiao Linchun 's cell phone is never turned off , and when it rings he knows there is an emergency he needs to deal with .
On the morning of Aug 9, the call was to alert him to a nearby garment factory that was on fire .The 35-year-old security guard immediately called his colleagues and rushed to the scene .He was busy helping people to evacuate to a safe place , while his team doused the flames before firefighters arrived ."For security guards like us , it 's a happy time when there are no reports of casualties in such an emergency ," he said . Xiao , who heads a team of security guards that covers Haizhu district 's Ruibao Street in Guangzhou , capital of Guangdong province , has been in the job since he left high school in 1994.In some people 's eyes , security guards simply play a supporting role , and the job is often regarded as one that requires lower academic credentials ."When I decided to become a security guard , my parents and friends were so surprised . Some said it wasn 't worth it and I deserved a better job ," he said . "I think it 's a decent job . It provides me with chances to do something significant for residents . "I may not be a policeman , but I 'm very proud of my work ," he said . China 's first modern security guards appeared in 1984 in Shenzhen , a pioneering city of China 's reform and opening-up . A year later , professional security companies were set up nationwide to help police with public order and safety .Xiao , who leads 140 guards , has two main duties : to provide security for banks , restaurants ,shopping malls and companies in Ruibao Street , and to assist police and urban management officers in maintaining traffic order and tackling crime ."Security guards are an important supplement ," he said , adding that his squad usually patrols with police officers and is often the first to be dispatched to the scene of accidents . Chen Guihua , 22, who joined Xiao 's security team three years ago , said he was driven by his boss ' work ethic ."I 'm still young , but I think I 'll stay with him for another few years ," he said . "Besides teaching us skills , he 's like a big brother ." After 17 years ' service , Xiao has assisted in cracking 1,252 public security cases , 354 criminal cases and 6,591 disputes . He was honored as one of China 's best security guards on Sept 2this year in Beijing ."I 'd never dreamed of such an honor ," he said , recalling the moment he received the prize at the Great Hall of the People . "It will push me to do a better job in the future ." The father-of-two said he has also received almost 100 letters of thanks from residents .After leaving his hometown in Zhanjiang , a coastal city about 500 km from Guangzhou , Xiao had originally planned on finding an office job at a company ."But I gradually changed my view and I fell in love with my job as a security guard ," he said . His wife , Lao Xiaohong , also gradually accepted his career choice . The couple now live in a rented apartment with their two sons , who attend primary school in Guangzhou ."The job supports my family now , so I don 't need to change it . Life will pay you if you work hard ," Xiao said . China-People-Garden
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Gao Ming, video king
Gao Ming, who is well-known for the videos he has made and posted online, participates at the Summer Davos 2011 in Dalian, Liaoning province, last Friday.
DALIAN, Liaoning - How dedicated is Gao Ming to taking videos of the world around him?
"I always take my digital video camera with me everywhere, even when I go to the washroom," Gao said. "Something interesting might happen and it won't wait for you to take a shot."
Yeah, that dedicated.
The Beijing-based paike (someone who makes digital videos and shares them online) focuses his lens mostly on the hot spots of society and ordinary people.
He has 100,000 followers on popular blog site Sina Weibo and hosts an entertainment talk show Meet Gao Ming on video sharing website youku.com.
"His stories are very attractive," said Duan Xiaoying, who has been assisting Gao for about two years.
"The interviewees like him for his humorous and easy manner," Duan said.
The two usually brainstorm for clips, then Duan works the camera as Gao emcees. Together they have produced about 500 video clips, with many attracting more than half a million hits.
"When a clip gets tens of thousands of comments, I feel really happy. This is what I love," said Gao.
He became a video enthusiast in 1996 when he bought a secondhand digital video camera.
"I found myself falling in love with videos immediately. I just like recording everything," he recalled.
In 2005, he started to shot funny one-minute clips, but soon realized the arranged scenes didn't reflect real society. So he turned his camera toward the common people - walking on the street with a camera and turning it back on himself from time to time to explain what was happening.
Some of the clips that gained him fame - and several prizes - include a woman outside the Beijing Film Studio, who dreamed of making big money as an actress and supporting her lover to run a business, and a security guard who performed rock and roll on the street. Both of them later became Web celebrities.
There can be trouble on the street, however.
During the World Cup last year, Gao and his partner went to Beijing's bar area to record the celebrations of soccer fans. They came across a fight at a bar.
The men thought Gao was filming the fight and tried to beat him instead. Gao quickly dragged his partner out of the bar and they ran as fast as they could.
Two groups of gangsters were chasing them until Gao pulled the videotape out and threw it on the street.
Recently, however, he's been thinking of refocusing his lens.
Because of his popular video stories and strong communication skills, Gao was chosen to cover a meeting of the World Economic Forum in Dalian, Liaoning province.
"It's the first time that I focused on the elite. I made dozens of videos for the participants, including business leaders, scientists and government officials," he told China Daily.
Gao interviewed Klaus Schwab, founder and executive chairman of the World Economic Forum, and asked him questions on behalf of Chinese netizens, such as how he could get world leaders to meet and what impressed him most about China.
After the interview, Gao gave Schwab an open invitation to his home for a taste of his wife's special recipe - noodles with soybean paste.
The chairman gave him a bear hug and said he might make it next time when he goes to Beijing.
Gao's video of the forum attracted more than 300,000 hits in 24 hours, according to Shao Dan, director of international public relations at youku.com.
"It is a big number for a video about high-level economic events," said Shao. "More than 200 comments were made after the video. Gao built a bridge between common netizens and a top forum."
"He reported the event from a perspective unlike the traditional news media. Gao is capable of representing the grassroots paike in China," she said.
According to Gao, the domestic paike group is small, with only hundreds of active members. And new members often supersede the old.
"The popular video and social websites provide opportunities to everyone to become a paike and a grassroots reporter," said Gao.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Chinese wins Lasker Award for malarial drug discovery
BEIJING - Pharmacologist Tu Youyou has become the first scientist on the mainland to win America's respected Lasker Award for her disco
very of a new approach to malaria treatment.
The 81-year-old will be presented with the medical prize by the Albert and Mary Lasker Foundation on September 23 in New York, the foundation announced Monday.
Tu, a scientist at the China Academy of Chinese Medical Sciences in Beijing, was praised by the jury for her "drug therapy for malaria that has saved millions of lives across the globe, especially in the developing world," according to a statement on the foundation's website.
In early 1969, Tu was appointed head of a government project that aimed to eradicate malaria, and it was then she began applying modern techniques with Chinese traditional medicine to find drug therapy for malaria.
After detecting 380 extracts made from 2,000 candidate recipes, Tu and her colleagues obtained a pure substance called "Qinghaosu," which became known as artemisinin in 1972.
An artemisinin-based drug combination is now the standard regimen for malaria, and the World Health Organization lists artemisinin and related agents in its catalog of "Essential Medicines," said a statement from the foundation.
The Lasker Awards are given annually to people who have made major advances in the understanding, diagnosis, treatment, cure and prevention of human diseases since 1945.
Lasker Awards are known as "America's Nobels" for their knack of gaining future recognition by the Nobel committee. In the last two decades, 28 Lasker laureates have gone on to receive the Nobel Prize, and 80 since 1945.
very of a new approach to malaria treatment.
The 81-year-old will be presented with the medical prize by the Albert and Mary Lasker Foundation on September 23 in New York, the foundation announced Monday.
Tu, a scientist at the China Academy of Chinese Medical Sciences in Beijing, was praised by the jury for her "drug therapy for malaria that has saved millions of lives across the globe, especially in the developing world," according to a statement on the foundation's website.
In early 1969, Tu was appointed head of a government project that aimed to eradicate malaria, and it was then she began applying modern techniques with Chinese traditional medicine to find drug therapy for malaria.
After detecting 380 extracts made from 2,000 candidate recipes, Tu and her colleagues obtained a pure substance called "Qinghaosu," which became known as artemisinin in 1972.
An artemisinin-based drug combination is now the standard regimen for malaria, and the World Health Organization lists artemisinin and related agents in its catalog of "Essential Medicines," said a statement from the foundation.
The Lasker Awards are given annually to people who have made major advances in the understanding, diagnosis, treatment, cure and prevention of human diseases since 1945.
Lasker Awards are known as "America's Nobels" for their knack of gaining future recognition by the Nobel committee. In the last two decades, 28 Lasker laureates have gone on to receive the Nobel Prize, and 80 since 1945.
Wisdom at the end of a brush
BEIJING - Wu Bin has been teaching calligraphy for 20 years and believes the ancient art still has a role to play in the digital age, when typing on a keyboard is replacing handwriting.
Wu Bin, 42, vice-chairwoman of Shandong Association for Young Calligraphers, teaches children calligraphy on Sept 4.
Wu, 42, is a teacher at Huayuan Road No 2 Elementary School of Jinan, Shandong province, and conducts a weekly calligraphy class to students aged from 6 to 16.
She said her students benefit from the quiet, calm environment she creates in her classes. They also enjoy the cultural and historical background she gives them along with instructions in the actual writing of various scripts.
"All the arts are interlinked," Wu said. "We should learn the rhythm of change from Michelangelo's sculpture The Genius of Victory, which depicts the winner in detail and the loser only in rough lines, and Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, often called the 'Fate', whose power comes from its highs and lows."
Wu started learning the discipline of calligraphy from a master when she was 11. From the master she also learned how to pass on the art to children.
Wu adapts her teaching in accordance with each student's ability, which makes her classes more individualized and rewarding.
"She (Wu) suggested several copybooks of calligraphy to me after she got to know me and let me make the final choice (of a certain calligraphic style)," said Xu Jiapei, a 13-year-old middle school student, who for seven years has practiced the calligraphic style of Zhi Yong, a master of the Sui Dynasty (AD 581-618).
Wu insists her students learn from ancient masters directly, especially famous calligraphers of the Tang (618-907) and Song (960-1279) dynasties, the golden age of Chinese calligraphy.
Wu thinks young students can learn new skills quite quickly. She said it does not take long for them to go from basic regular script to running script and even the cursive form.
"We should not underestimate their abilities," she said. "They just need the right guidance and encouragement."
Taking part in calligraphy exhibitions and competitions at various levels enables the students to see that their efforts have paid off, Wu said. Winning a prize is an immediate inspiration for them.
However, Wu carefully controls the number of competitions her students enter.
"Despite the rewards they get from winning prizes, it's more important for them to concentrate on the art itself and never put the cart before the horse," she said.
Wu firmly believes children should always compete to write, instead of writing to compete.
Wu first gives her proteges quiet time to observe and study an ancient master's strokes then gets them to reconstruct them before learning to copy them from memory.
"It is a good process to improve their inner peace, patience and observation skills," said Zhang Jing, the mother of one of the students.
Wu believes that the value of calligraphy grows with time. "The nation's cultural identity is defined by its language, of which the process of writing is an inherent part," she said.
Wu is modest and plays down her role as a teacher of Chinese culture. However, her students speak highly of the way she introduces cultural elements into her classes.
"She adds cultural background and historical stories to her lessons, and this can't be done without true knowledge of the subject," said Hu Xiaoyu, a 12-year-old middle school student.
"The anecdotes about famous ancient calligraphers and their classical works add life and interest to the process of writing."
Wu's emphasis on creating a cultured environment turns the class of about 40 students and their parents into a ceremonial site for calligraphy. When you are used to modern classrooms with their noise and flash technology, the quietness and solemnity of one of Wu's classes is striking.
"I feel quiet and peaceful sitting here. Wu likes an open class. I benefit a lot from that," said Yang Lin, the mother of a student. "Wu creates that atmosphere easily and she makes it work for both children and adults."
Wu does not think a weekly class is long enough for her to follow her students' progress. So parents are encouraged to sit beside their children during her lessons. This helps the parents to encourage the children to practice writing at home on a daily basis.
"An open class was the style at schools in ancient China," Wu said. "Opening the class to parents not only helps to spread knowledge, but also helps students feel less cramped, making it easier for them to concentrate more naturally on their brushes.
"I have never closed the classroom door in 23 years. Many students and adults develop an interest in calligraphy by listening at the door."
Wu does worry that her students will not have enough time to practice calligraphy every day because of all the homework they must do and the modern distractions of computers and social networking. But she hopes her lessons will instill in them a lifelong love of the ancient art.
"I believe the time they spend on calligraphy when they are young will make them different from many other students," she said.
"What I am doing is just following the way calligraphy was taught to me that summer in 1980 when I touched a brush for the first time. The brush became a part of my life."
Wu Bin, 42, vice-chairwoman of Shandong Association for Young Calligraphers, teaches children calligraphy on Sept 4.
Wu, 42, is a teacher at Huayuan Road No 2 Elementary School of Jinan, Shandong province, and conducts a weekly calligraphy class to students aged from 6 to 16.
She said her students benefit from the quiet, calm environment she creates in her classes. They also enjoy the cultural and historical background she gives them along with instructions in the actual writing of various scripts.
"All the arts are interlinked," Wu said. "We should learn the rhythm of change from Michelangelo's sculpture The Genius of Victory, which depicts the winner in detail and the loser only in rough lines, and Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, often called the 'Fate', whose power comes from its highs and lows."
Wu started learning the discipline of calligraphy from a master when she was 11. From the master she also learned how to pass on the art to children.
Wu adapts her teaching in accordance with each student's ability, which makes her classes more individualized and rewarding.
"She (Wu) suggested several copybooks of calligraphy to me after she got to know me and let me make the final choice (of a certain calligraphic style)," said Xu Jiapei, a 13-year-old middle school student, who for seven years has practiced the calligraphic style of Zhi Yong, a master of the Sui Dynasty (AD 581-618).
Wu insists her students learn from ancient masters directly, especially famous calligraphers of the Tang (618-907) and Song (960-1279) dynasties, the golden age of Chinese calligraphy.
Wu thinks young students can learn new skills quite quickly. She said it does not take long for them to go from basic regular script to running script and even the cursive form.
"We should not underestimate their abilities," she said. "They just need the right guidance and encouragement."
Taking part in calligraphy exhibitions and competitions at various levels enables the students to see that their efforts have paid off, Wu said. Winning a prize is an immediate inspiration for them.
However, Wu carefully controls the number of competitions her students enter.
"Despite the rewards they get from winning prizes, it's more important for them to concentrate on the art itself and never put the cart before the horse," she said.
Wu firmly believes children should always compete to write, instead of writing to compete.
Wu first gives her proteges quiet time to observe and study an ancient master's strokes then gets them to reconstruct them before learning to copy them from memory.
"It is a good process to improve their inner peace, patience and observation skills," said Zhang Jing, the mother of one of the students.
Wu believes that the value of calligraphy grows with time. "The nation's cultural identity is defined by its language, of which the process of writing is an inherent part," she said.
Wu is modest and plays down her role as a teacher of Chinese culture. However, her students speak highly of the way she introduces cultural elements into her classes.
"She adds cultural background and historical stories to her lessons, and this can't be done without true knowledge of the subject," said Hu Xiaoyu, a 12-year-old middle school student.
"The anecdotes about famous ancient calligraphers and their classical works add life and interest to the process of writing."
Wu's emphasis on creating a cultured environment turns the class of about 40 students and their parents into a ceremonial site for calligraphy. When you are used to modern classrooms with their noise and flash technology, the quietness and solemnity of one of Wu's classes is striking.
"I feel quiet and peaceful sitting here. Wu likes an open class. I benefit a lot from that," said Yang Lin, the mother of a student. "Wu creates that atmosphere easily and she makes it work for both children and adults."
Wu does not think a weekly class is long enough for her to follow her students' progress. So parents are encouraged to sit beside their children during her lessons. This helps the parents to encourage the children to practice writing at home on a daily basis.
"An open class was the style at schools in ancient China," Wu said. "Opening the class to parents not only helps to spread knowledge, but also helps students feel less cramped, making it easier for them to concentrate more naturally on their brushes.
"I have never closed the classroom door in 23 years. Many students and adults develop an interest in calligraphy by listening at the door."
Wu does worry that her students will not have enough time to practice calligraphy every day because of all the homework they must do and the modern distractions of computers and social networking. But she hopes her lessons will instill in them a lifelong love of the ancient art.
"I believe the time they spend on calligraphy when they are young will make them different from many other students," she said.
"What I am doing is just following the way calligraphy was taught to me that summer in 1980 when I touched a brush for the first time. The brush became a part of my life."
Measuring West China with feet
URUMQI - Looking like another blazing sun, Guo Jianhua stands in his fiery red uniform under the scorching sun to measure the sea level of a road near Urumqi county, Northwest China's Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region.
Guo Jianhua (right), a senior surveying and mapping technician, works in the Lop Nur area in October, 2007.
"We are measuring our country with our feet, step by step," the senior technician from the Xinjiang Bureau of Surveying and Mapping, who has worked in the field for three decades, told China Daily.
Guo, 54, is one of 7,500 workers involved in a State surveying and mapping program since 2006. The program covers more than 2 million square kilometers of depopulated zones in West China including Sichuan, Yunnan, Gansu and Qinghai provinces, as well as the Xinjiang and Tibet autonomous regions.
"I often climb up to the area between 4 km and 5 km above sea level in the Kunlun Mountain Range. I've walked into the hinterland of the Taklamakan Desert with the temperature reaching 70 C at noon and dropping below zero at night," Guo said.
Every year, he goes to dangerous areas like high mountains, hot deserts and cold glaciers to survey and map for about 10 months. His common meal is instant noodles, naan bread and pickles.
"Every surveying and mapping worker has been so close to death. The difference is that some survive, while others don't," he said.
During the 1950s and 1980s, approximately 42 surveying and mapping workers lost their lives, and at least 100 became disabled due to lack of equipment and technological support, according to the National Administration of Surveying, Mapping and Geoinformation.
Guo still remembers the frustration when his car got stuck on the way to the Kunlun Mountain Range in August 2008 with the nearest village 300 km away.
"For hours, I could see nobody. I tried every means, including digging sand and putting stones between the tires and the sand, but it was useless and I felt exhausted. The place is 5 km in altitude, and I was worn out after I carried a stone the size of a football, which felt 10 times heavier," Guo said.
After hours of waiting, another surveying and mapping car found him.
Besides the unexpected dangers like meeting wolves and getting lost, during their three-month stay in the Kunlun Mountain Range, Guo and his team were tortured every day by low atmospheric pressure with oxygen only 40 percent of lower altitudes, as well as by exhaustion, extreme cold and climbing hazards.
"Every night I would wake up because of suffocation and the thing I treasured the most at that time was to have a good and long sleep," Guo said.
He once surveyed and mapped at the side of a board saying "death zone" on the Kunlun Mountains.
Death zone refers to the area 8 km above sea level, where the temperature can dip to very low levels, resulting in frostbite of any body part exposed to the air.
Guo has walked through the death zone, while his colleague Zeng Miaoxin, 52, carried out the body of his friend from the Ili River in October, 1993.
"Our boat was capsized in extremely cold water by a strong wind. The body wasn't found for two days until it floated near the bank," Zeng said.
He still remembers the piercing coldness of the water and the soft body on his back - a 22-year-old man who had just graduated from university.
Now every surveying and mapping worker wears a shining red uniform during field work to stand out.
Li Shaoqun, a 43-year-old surveying and mapping worker, told China Daily that sometimes the loneliness of the place drives him crazy.
"In the wide desert, besides several red spots, all you can see is the yellow sand and the blue sky," he said.
Guo Jianhua (right), a senior surveying and mapping technician, works in the Lop Nur area in October, 2007.
"We are measuring our country with our feet, step by step," the senior technician from the Xinjiang Bureau of Surveying and Mapping, who has worked in the field for three decades, told China Daily.
Guo, 54, is one of 7,500 workers involved in a State surveying and mapping program since 2006. The program covers more than 2 million square kilometers of depopulated zones in West China including Sichuan, Yunnan, Gansu and Qinghai provinces, as well as the Xinjiang and Tibet autonomous regions.
"I often climb up to the area between 4 km and 5 km above sea level in the Kunlun Mountain Range. I've walked into the hinterland of the Taklamakan Desert with the temperature reaching 70 C at noon and dropping below zero at night," Guo said.
Every year, he goes to dangerous areas like high mountains, hot deserts and cold glaciers to survey and map for about 10 months. His common meal is instant noodles, naan bread and pickles.
"Every surveying and mapping worker has been so close to death. The difference is that some survive, while others don't," he said.
During the 1950s and 1980s, approximately 42 surveying and mapping workers lost their lives, and at least 100 became disabled due to lack of equipment and technological support, according to the National Administration of Surveying, Mapping and Geoinformation.
Guo still remembers the frustration when his car got stuck on the way to the Kunlun Mountain Range in August 2008 with the nearest village 300 km away.
"For hours, I could see nobody. I tried every means, including digging sand and putting stones between the tires and the sand, but it was useless and I felt exhausted. The place is 5 km in altitude, and I was worn out after I carried a stone the size of a football, which felt 10 times heavier," Guo said.
After hours of waiting, another surveying and mapping car found him.
Besides the unexpected dangers like meeting wolves and getting lost, during their three-month stay in the Kunlun Mountain Range, Guo and his team were tortured every day by low atmospheric pressure with oxygen only 40 percent of lower altitudes, as well as by exhaustion, extreme cold and climbing hazards.
"Every night I would wake up because of suffocation and the thing I treasured the most at that time was to have a good and long sleep," Guo said.
He once surveyed and mapped at the side of a board saying "death zone" on the Kunlun Mountains.
Death zone refers to the area 8 km above sea level, where the temperature can dip to very low levels, resulting in frostbite of any body part exposed to the air.
Guo has walked through the death zone, while his colleague Zeng Miaoxin, 52, carried out the body of his friend from the Ili River in October, 1993.
"Our boat was capsized in extremely cold water by a strong wind. The body wasn't found for two days until it floated near the bank," Zeng said.
He still remembers the piercing coldness of the water and the soft body on his back - a 22-year-old man who had just graduated from university.
Now every surveying and mapping worker wears a shining red uniform during field work to stand out.
Li Shaoqun, a 43-year-old surveying and mapping worker, told China Daily that sometimes the loneliness of the place drives him crazy.
"In the wide desert, besides several red spots, all you can see is the yellow sand and the blue sky," he said.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Former university guard begins study
Jia Zuosheng (L), a former security guard at Tsinghua University, arrives at Shandong Normal University with his luggage, in Jinan, East China's Shandong province, Sept 4, 2011. The 27-year-old freshman was accepted by the university this year after preparing through self-study and attending lectures during his time spent working as a library security guard at Tsinghua University.
Jia Zuosheng, a former library security guard at Tsinghua University, arrives at Shandong Normal University to register for the new school year, Sept 4, 2011.
Jia Zuosheng, a former library security guard at Tsinghua University, is surrounded by journalists as he arrives at Shandong Normal University to register for the new school year, Sept 4, 2011.
Jia Zuosheng is surrounded by journalists as he arrives at Shandong Normal University to register for the new school year, Sept 4, 2011.
Jia Zuosheng, a former library security guard at Tsinghua University, arrives at Shandong Normal University to register for the new school year, Sept 4, 2011.
Jia Zuosheng, a former library security guard at Tsinghua University, is surrounded by journalists as he arrives at Shandong Normal University to register for the new school year, Sept 4, 2011.
Jia Zuosheng is surrounded by journalists as he arrives at Shandong Normal University to register for the new school year, Sept 4, 2011.
Princess pens her own fairy tale for kids
Princess Laurentien of the Netherlands talks exclusively with China Daily on Thursday.
BEIJING - When talking about her personal struggles, the charming royal etiquette of Princess Laurentien of the Netherlands gave way to a natural outflow of affection.
"When you have a public role you have to get used to always being in the public eye," the princess told China Daily on Thursday. "But unlike the politicians who choose, I didn't seek out to do that."
"The thing happened with my life's choice," she said. "I just fell in love, and my husband fell in love with me."
Wife to Prince Constantijn, the third son of Queen Beatrix, Princess Laurentien is on her first visit to China.
Being princess to the Country of Honor of the ongoing 18th Beijing International Book Fair (which runs until Sept 4), she greeted the fair with the launch of the Chinese version of her own book, Mr. Finney and the World Turned Upside-down.
The book is a picture book for children, and is in a sense a genuine princess' fairy tale written originally in Dutch and illustrated by Sieb Posthuma.
Featuring Mr Finney, a walking fish with feet, and his friend Snail and the winged Pinky Pepper, the environment-themed fable tells stories about Finney's adventures raising questions and seeking answers.
"I write about things like climate change, but avoid using the terms in the text," she said.
Environmental protection is one of the two focuses that the princess has been devoted to working on, with the other being literacy. She has been persistent in her duties under the influence of her mother and her father, a former Dutch minister.
She stressed that her public role requires remaining truthful to who she is, and the secret to managing her different roles is "by being me", she said.
That's why she keeps reading to her children every day.
"After a long, long day of different meetings, when I come back, the moment I close the door, I'm a mother and I have a duty to read," she said.
The story, originally written for her three children, has been developed into an anchor for educating and inspiring children and a bridge that creates "dialogue between generations and countries", as she put it.
The book was well received in Europe in different languages.
Having been told by a Chinese parent in an e-mail about the environment increasingly becoming a concern in mainstream China, the princess was pleased and said: "We all agree that Mr Finney comes at the right time to China."
21st Century Publishing House President Zhang Qiulin, the Chinese publisher, said the book bridges mutual understanding in raising awareness in the young to care about others and about the future.
Hou Xinpeng, the book's translator, told China Daily that she was touched by the princess' conscientiousness in the process of cooperation.
"We often discuss the style and wording," Hou said, "And I read it more like a book with profound philosophical thinking."
The princess said that her inspiration for the book came from "curiosity in others and in my surrounding environment".
A journalist before becoming a princess, she loves to talk with others and to know the deeper stories.
"I feel by having a book in China, by leaving my words, thoughts and images to its people, we're now obviously forever connected," she said.
She's currently reading extensively about the country, "like a sponge", to have an overview of China.
"Then I would like to read more works from Chinese writers, say, on life in rural areas, on tradition, and on people who move into cities," she said.
Her weeklong stay so far has left her with the impression of Chinese people being "direct, humorous and easygoing".
Zheng Yuanjie, a Chinese children's book writer, spoke with her at the book launch, which turned into a lively talk show.
The princess handled Zheng's humor properly and said she has enjoyed it, and is expecting to work more with him and other Chinese.
BEIJING - When talking about her personal struggles, the charming royal etiquette of Princess Laurentien of the Netherlands gave way to a natural outflow of affection.
"When you have a public role you have to get used to always being in the public eye," the princess told China Daily on Thursday. "But unlike the politicians who choose, I didn't seek out to do that."
"The thing happened with my life's choice," she said. "I just fell in love, and my husband fell in love with me."
Wife to Prince Constantijn, the third son of Queen Beatrix, Princess Laurentien is on her first visit to China.
Being princess to the Country of Honor of the ongoing 18th Beijing International Book Fair (which runs until Sept 4), she greeted the fair with the launch of the Chinese version of her own book, Mr. Finney and the World Turned Upside-down.
The book is a picture book for children, and is in a sense a genuine princess' fairy tale written originally in Dutch and illustrated by Sieb Posthuma.
Featuring Mr Finney, a walking fish with feet, and his friend Snail and the winged Pinky Pepper, the environment-themed fable tells stories about Finney's adventures raising questions and seeking answers.
"I write about things like climate change, but avoid using the terms in the text," she said.
Environmental protection is one of the two focuses that the princess has been devoted to working on, with the other being literacy. She has been persistent in her duties under the influence of her mother and her father, a former Dutch minister.
She stressed that her public role requires remaining truthful to who she is, and the secret to managing her different roles is "by being me", she said.
That's why she keeps reading to her children every day.
"After a long, long day of different meetings, when I come back, the moment I close the door, I'm a mother and I have a duty to read," she said.
The story, originally written for her three children, has been developed into an anchor for educating and inspiring children and a bridge that creates "dialogue between generations and countries", as she put it.
The book was well received in Europe in different languages.
Having been told by a Chinese parent in an e-mail about the environment increasingly becoming a concern in mainstream China, the princess was pleased and said: "We all agree that Mr Finney comes at the right time to China."
21st Century Publishing House President Zhang Qiulin, the Chinese publisher, said the book bridges mutual understanding in raising awareness in the young to care about others and about the future.
Hou Xinpeng, the book's translator, told China Daily that she was touched by the princess' conscientiousness in the process of cooperation.
"We often discuss the style and wording," Hou said, "And I read it more like a book with profound philosophical thinking."
The princess said that her inspiration for the book came from "curiosity in others and in my surrounding environment".
A journalist before becoming a princess, she loves to talk with others and to know the deeper stories.
"I feel by having a book in China, by leaving my words, thoughts and images to its people, we're now obviously forever connected," she said.
She's currently reading extensively about the country, "like a sponge", to have an overview of China.
"Then I would like to read more works from Chinese writers, say, on life in rural areas, on tradition, and on people who move into cities," she said.
Her weeklong stay so far has left her with the impression of Chinese people being "direct, humorous and easygoing".
Zheng Yuanjie, a Chinese children's book writer, spoke with her at the book launch, which turned into a lively talk show.
The princess handled Zheng's humor properly and said she has enjoyed it, and is expecting to work more with him and other Chinese.
An orphan among orphans
BEIJING - Being an orphan who lost both legs hasn't stopped Xu Yuehua from having a room full of her own children.
Xu Yuehua lost her legs in an accident at the age of 12 and volunteered to take care of orphans at a social welfare institution in Xiangtan, Hunan province.
The 55-year-old, who gets around by walking on a pair of stools, is "mother" to more than 100 children from an orphanage in Xiangtan, Hunan province.
"She's got a way with kids after all these years nursing and caring for the children, many of whom are disabled or mentally challenged," said Li Yilong, deputy director of Xiangtan City Social Welfare Home.
The home has around 80 children in its kindergarten.
"She is always cheerful playing with them and never gets upset with the mess she has to deal with," Li said.
An orphan herself, Xu has been taking care of the children in the welfare home for 38 years.
"I felt like a burden to others being taken care of and doing no work," she said when talking about her early days in the welfare home.
Xu's father died when she was one year old and her mother passed away when she was 12. Only three months later she lost her legs after being hit by a train when picking up coal cinders on the tracks.
Her aging stepfather and young sisters took care of her the first few years, but in 1973 the family was not able to support her any more and the local welfare home accepted her.
When the head of the home visited her, Xu asked whether she could do something for the children.
"But she said she would only assign me some job if I could walk," Xu recalled.
With her legs amputated, she was not able to use crutches or get artificial limbs.
"But seeing a toddler learning to walk against a stool, I realized stools would help me walk, too," Xu said.
Then she got two handy stools, and practiced moving little by little.
To walk, she grabs the stools with her hands and moves her body onto one stool at a time for balance.
A few months later she was able to walk to the head office and got permission to take care of the infants.
"She taught me to be open-minded and optimistic," said She Shengli, who was once an abandoned baby born with cleft lip and palate and abandoned as a baby.
Shengli was found on the street in March 1973 and became the first child Xu looked after at the welfare home.
It's not easy to feed a baby with such a defect as they usually have problems sucking and swallowing. But Xu managed to feed the infant drop by drop.
When Shengli underwent surgery at Xiangtan Center Hospital, Xu was by her side day and night nursing her.
In the eyes of Shengli, her "mother" is always spirited.
"She taught me to face life with a smile," said Shengli, who is already the mother of a 15-year-old boy.
Now Shengli takes her son to visit "grandma" regularly, like other children Xu has brought up.
In 1987, Xu married a kitchen worker at the welfare home and they had a healthy boy in 1990.
Xu's own son, Lai Mingzhi, said he once envied the children of the orphanage as they took away the love from his mother.
"When my mom went to the kindergarten, she used to lock me up at home," recalled Lai Mingzhi, now 21, and a soldier of the People's Liberation Army based in Jilin city, Jilin province.
"But I gradually understood that the orphans need her more than I do."
And her husband, Lai Ziyuan, a simple and honest man, has been supporting Xu through the years.
"Our life is happy and she takes good care of our family," he said.
Xu said she never thought about giving up attending to the children.
"I feel very, very happy being with the children."
Xu received an electronic wheelchair as a gift from China Central Television's Channel 7 early this year.
"I ride it to the kindergarten, and it takes only a few minutes to get there. So fast and convenient," said Xu excitedly.
"But I always carry the stools with me, because I need them when moving in the house and taking care of the babies," she added.
Xu Yuehua lost her legs in an accident at the age of 12 and volunteered to take care of orphans at a social welfare institution in Xiangtan, Hunan province.
The 55-year-old, who gets around by walking on a pair of stools, is "mother" to more than 100 children from an orphanage in Xiangtan, Hunan province.
"She's got a way with kids after all these years nursing and caring for the children, many of whom are disabled or mentally challenged," said Li Yilong, deputy director of Xiangtan City Social Welfare Home.
The home has around 80 children in its kindergarten.
"She is always cheerful playing with them and never gets upset with the mess she has to deal with," Li said.
An orphan herself, Xu has been taking care of the children in the welfare home for 38 years.
"I felt like a burden to others being taken care of and doing no work," she said when talking about her early days in the welfare home.
Xu's father died when she was one year old and her mother passed away when she was 12. Only three months later she lost her legs after being hit by a train when picking up coal cinders on the tracks.
Her aging stepfather and young sisters took care of her the first few years, but in 1973 the family was not able to support her any more and the local welfare home accepted her.
When the head of the home visited her, Xu asked whether she could do something for the children.
"But she said she would only assign me some job if I could walk," Xu recalled.
With her legs amputated, she was not able to use crutches or get artificial limbs.
"But seeing a toddler learning to walk against a stool, I realized stools would help me walk, too," Xu said.
Then she got two handy stools, and practiced moving little by little.
To walk, she grabs the stools with her hands and moves her body onto one stool at a time for balance.
A few months later she was able to walk to the head office and got permission to take care of the infants.
"She taught me to be open-minded and optimistic," said She Shengli, who was once an abandoned baby born with cleft lip and palate and abandoned as a baby.
Shengli was found on the street in March 1973 and became the first child Xu looked after at the welfare home.
It's not easy to feed a baby with such a defect as they usually have problems sucking and swallowing. But Xu managed to feed the infant drop by drop.
When Shengli underwent surgery at Xiangtan Center Hospital, Xu was by her side day and night nursing her.
In the eyes of Shengli, her "mother" is always spirited.
"She taught me to face life with a smile," said Shengli, who is already the mother of a 15-year-old boy.
Now Shengli takes her son to visit "grandma" regularly, like other children Xu has brought up.
In 1987, Xu married a kitchen worker at the welfare home and they had a healthy boy in 1990.
Xu's own son, Lai Mingzhi, said he once envied the children of the orphanage as they took away the love from his mother.
"When my mom went to the kindergarten, she used to lock me up at home," recalled Lai Mingzhi, now 21, and a soldier of the People's Liberation Army based in Jilin city, Jilin province.
"But I gradually understood that the orphans need her more than I do."
And her husband, Lai Ziyuan, a simple and honest man, has been supporting Xu through the years.
"Our life is happy and she takes good care of our family," he said.
Xu said she never thought about giving up attending to the children.
"I feel very, very happy being with the children."
Xu received an electronic wheelchair as a gift from China Central Television's Channel 7 early this year.
"I ride it to the kindergarten, and it takes only a few minutes to get there. So fast and convenient," said Xu excitedly.
"But I always carry the stools with me, because I need them when moving in the house and taking care of the babies," she added.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Building a road to revival
YUSHU, Qinghai - The roads being reconstructed by workers like Hu Yongtao in the Yushu quake zone are, in turn, the roads to reconstruction in the disaster area. More importantly, they are also the pathways to better development than existed in Qinghai province before the temblor.
By working 6 am to 10:30 pm a day for nine months a year, braving -25 C winters and enduring altitude sickness on the remote Tibetan Plateau, Hu and his colleagues are creating an improved transportation system.
o reach Qumulai, residents in the nearest county used to require a three-hour bone-pounding ride over pitted earthen tracks.
It now takes half an hour.
"The road was terrible," said Hu. "Ordinary cars couldn't pass. Drivers are much happier now."
Settlements as remote as Yege county, about 1,000 km from downtown Yushu prefecture - itself an underdeveloped and quake-ravaged area - rely on outside supplies.
Fruits and vegetables cannot be grown for hundreds of square kilometers around Yege because the soil is thin in nutrients and it is chilly most of the year. All the earth can push up is ankle-high grass, which feeds the yaks, the dairy of which feeds the tent-dwelling ethnically Tibetan herders. For many, yak dairy is their only food.
"Everything else must come from far away," said Yongdingquepab, deputy headmaster of Yege Primary School.
What this means for the Yushu Public Road Team workers is "We can never rest. As soon as we fix one road, another one has a new problem. It never ends. We don't know if we could ever finish our work in Qinghai," Hu said.
The 39-year-old's greatest wish is for better equipment.
"We work with the simplest tools, like shovels and our hands."
Hu earns 3,000 yuan ($470) a month, which he said is more than most of his colleagues, because the Henan native has worked on roads in Qinghai's Tibetan areas for 19 of his 20 years on the job.
"I can only say some simple sentences in Tibetan," Hu said.
"Despite the language barrier, I still have good communication with the local people. We often eat and drink together. We mostly talk about the road."
The residents of Yege, where the team's camp is, invite them to local festivals.
"The school gave us some tables when we didn't have any," Hu said.
In the school's office, three teachers share every desk because of the shortage.
Hu has also adapted to the plateau's oxygen-starved and often frigid air.
"I had to work with a splitting headache at first," he said. "And my lips were always chapped."
He dealt with the altitude sickness that often debilitates outsiders by chewing garlic and gulping oxygen from a tank in the corner of the worker's common area, he said.
"The extreme cold is a danger, so we have to wear so many thick clothes and change boots often," Hu said.
Hu is looking forward to his three-month annual leave on Nov 3.
"In the winter, it's too cold and snowy to do regular construction work," he said.
"But we remain on call. If there are problems with snow or ice and we get the call from the company, we have to rush to the site to clear it."
Because of that, the workers sometimes take turns staying in Yege during the winter, he said.
"I plan to retire at 55 and be happy for what I've done with, and for, others," Hu said.
"We're proud to do this job. It's hard work, but we do what we can for the good of the people and the country."
By working 6 am to 10:30 pm a day for nine months a year, braving -25 C winters and enduring altitude sickness on the remote Tibetan Plateau, Hu and his colleagues are creating an improved transportation system.
o reach Qumulai, residents in the nearest county used to require a three-hour bone-pounding ride over pitted earthen tracks.
It now takes half an hour.
"The road was terrible," said Hu. "Ordinary cars couldn't pass. Drivers are much happier now."
Settlements as remote as Yege county, about 1,000 km from downtown Yushu prefecture - itself an underdeveloped and quake-ravaged area - rely on outside supplies.
Fruits and vegetables cannot be grown for hundreds of square kilometers around Yege because the soil is thin in nutrients and it is chilly most of the year. All the earth can push up is ankle-high grass, which feeds the yaks, the dairy of which feeds the tent-dwelling ethnically Tibetan herders. For many, yak dairy is their only food.
"Everything else must come from far away," said Yongdingquepab, deputy headmaster of Yege Primary School.
What this means for the Yushu Public Road Team workers is "We can never rest. As soon as we fix one road, another one has a new problem. It never ends. We don't know if we could ever finish our work in Qinghai," Hu said.
The 39-year-old's greatest wish is for better equipment.
"We work with the simplest tools, like shovels and our hands."
Hu earns 3,000 yuan ($470) a month, which he said is more than most of his colleagues, because the Henan native has worked on roads in Qinghai's Tibetan areas for 19 of his 20 years on the job.
"I can only say some simple sentences in Tibetan," Hu said.
"Despite the language barrier, I still have good communication with the local people. We often eat and drink together. We mostly talk about the road."
The residents of Yege, where the team's camp is, invite them to local festivals.
"The school gave us some tables when we didn't have any," Hu said.
In the school's office, three teachers share every desk because of the shortage.
Hu has also adapted to the plateau's oxygen-starved and often frigid air.
"I had to work with a splitting headache at first," he said. "And my lips were always chapped."
He dealt with the altitude sickness that often debilitates outsiders by chewing garlic and gulping oxygen from a tank in the corner of the worker's common area, he said.
"The extreme cold is a danger, so we have to wear so many thick clothes and change boots often," Hu said.
Hu is looking forward to his three-month annual leave on Nov 3.
"In the winter, it's too cold and snowy to do regular construction work," he said.
"But we remain on call. If there are problems with snow or ice and we get the call from the company, we have to rush to the site to clear it."
Because of that, the workers sometimes take turns staying in Yege during the winter, he said.
"I plan to retire at 55 and be happy for what I've done with, and for, others," Hu said.
"We're proud to do this job. It's hard work, but we do what we can for the good of the people and the country."
Lessons in hope and frustration
Founder of migrant children's school may be facing last semester
BEIJING - The new school term might be the last one Tang Siping will spend with his 1,500 students - all children of migrant workers.
Tang Siping talks with a student in Zhenxing School, Beijing, on Monday.
Since June, at least 24 schools for the children of migrant workers have been closed in Beijing's Daxing, Haidian and Chaoyang districts, forcing 14,000 students to transfer to other schools.
"I'm prepared for the worst, that I will have to close the school, but I still hope that the education authority won't turn a deaf ear to us," Tang said.
Having poured his life savings into building Zhenxing School, and relocating it five times, the 63-year-old simply can't afford to move again.
Land acquisition and demolitions have already started in neighboring areas.
"I just hope the school will be merged into public schools so the government will ensure its operation," Tang said.
Tang, who used to work as a teacher in the private Xinghua College in Beijing, retired in 1999.
Not long after, Tang saw two children of migrant workers fighting on the street for rubbish in the same waste bin.
"One was from Sichuan province, the other from Anhui province, both 11, they said they didn't have money to go to school," he said.
At that time, access to public schools was mostly restricted to Beijing natives. Although the Beijing Municipal Commission of Education issued a regulation to open public schools to migrant workers' children, they had to pay extra money.
Moreover, their parents could not afford tuition for private schools.
Tang heard that more and more young people from migrant families committed crimes after dropping out of school.
So in 2000, Tang took 100,000 yuan ($15,700), one-third of his life savings, rented a piece of land, built 30 single-story houses in Shucun village in Haidian, and had 10 of his friends volunteer to teach in his school.
That year the school had 70 students aged from 6 to 12, studying various lessons including math, Chinese language, English, music, art and sports. Each student paid 700 yuan a year to the school - a price that remained unchanged until 2009.
In the second semester, another 200 students came to the school.
"I never advertised the school. All the parents came to me because I was charging little," Tang said.
Now the school has more than 1,500 students aged from 6 to 15, paying 840 yuan each per year, which barely covers school expenditures.
To make ends meet, Tang poured in his own money. In 2007, Tang got 1 million yuan in relocation compensation because the government acquired his land in Malianwa, Haidian district.
With the money, Tang immediately paid back the 300,000 yuan he borrowed between 2000 and 2005 to construct the school.
However, the school has been relocated five times in five years because of land requisition, and Tang's money to build classrooms was wasted.
Yang Yanfen, a 40-year-old migrant worker whose two children attend Tang's school, told China Daily that she trusts the teachers there.
"The school is closer to my home, so my children can ask questions to the teachers whenever they have problems with their studies, so I insist sending them here despite the fact that I could save the tuition fee at public schools," Yang said.
In 2010, some big cities lifted public school restriction to migrant workers' children, including Beijing, Shanghai and Hangzhou, Zhejiang province. But media reports reflected that the educational resources could not meet the growing enrollment in some places.
"The existence of schools for migrant workers' children reflects that public schools cannot provide enough educational resources for the children, and that the government did not actually shoulder its responsibility to provide equal access to education for everybody," said Sun Heng, founder of a Beijing-based NGO named Migrant Workers Home Cultural and Development Center.
"Compared to public schools, the private schools for migrant workers' children have various problems. But what the government should do is to help the schools solve the problem, instead of removing them," Sun said.
"Since migrant workers live in suburban areas where there are few public schools, the government should support the private schools. If it fails to let the migrant workers' children feel that they are treated equally, I'm afraid it will have to spend more money building prisons for rebellious young people in the future," Sun said.
BEIJING - The new school term might be the last one Tang Siping will spend with his 1,500 students - all children of migrant workers.
Tang Siping talks with a student in Zhenxing School, Beijing, on Monday.
Since June, at least 24 schools for the children of migrant workers have been closed in Beijing's Daxing, Haidian and Chaoyang districts, forcing 14,000 students to transfer to other schools.
"I'm prepared for the worst, that I will have to close the school, but I still hope that the education authority won't turn a deaf ear to us," Tang said.
Having poured his life savings into building Zhenxing School, and relocating it five times, the 63-year-old simply can't afford to move again.
Land acquisition and demolitions have already started in neighboring areas.
"I just hope the school will be merged into public schools so the government will ensure its operation," Tang said.
Tang, who used to work as a teacher in the private Xinghua College in Beijing, retired in 1999.
Not long after, Tang saw two children of migrant workers fighting on the street for rubbish in the same waste bin.
"One was from Sichuan province, the other from Anhui province, both 11, they said they didn't have money to go to school," he said.
At that time, access to public schools was mostly restricted to Beijing natives. Although the Beijing Municipal Commission of Education issued a regulation to open public schools to migrant workers' children, they had to pay extra money.
Moreover, their parents could not afford tuition for private schools.
Tang heard that more and more young people from migrant families committed crimes after dropping out of school.
So in 2000, Tang took 100,000 yuan ($15,700), one-third of his life savings, rented a piece of land, built 30 single-story houses in Shucun village in Haidian, and had 10 of his friends volunteer to teach in his school.
That year the school had 70 students aged from 6 to 12, studying various lessons including math, Chinese language, English, music, art and sports. Each student paid 700 yuan a year to the school - a price that remained unchanged until 2009.
In the second semester, another 200 students came to the school.
"I never advertised the school. All the parents came to me because I was charging little," Tang said.
Now the school has more than 1,500 students aged from 6 to 15, paying 840 yuan each per year, which barely covers school expenditures.
To make ends meet, Tang poured in his own money. In 2007, Tang got 1 million yuan in relocation compensation because the government acquired his land in Malianwa, Haidian district.
With the money, Tang immediately paid back the 300,000 yuan he borrowed between 2000 and 2005 to construct the school.
However, the school has been relocated five times in five years because of land requisition, and Tang's money to build classrooms was wasted.
Yang Yanfen, a 40-year-old migrant worker whose two children attend Tang's school, told China Daily that she trusts the teachers there.
"The school is closer to my home, so my children can ask questions to the teachers whenever they have problems with their studies, so I insist sending them here despite the fact that I could save the tuition fee at public schools," Yang said.
In 2010, some big cities lifted public school restriction to migrant workers' children, including Beijing, Shanghai and Hangzhou, Zhejiang province. But media reports reflected that the educational resources could not meet the growing enrollment in some places.
"The existence of schools for migrant workers' children reflects that public schools cannot provide enough educational resources for the children, and that the government did not actually shoulder its responsibility to provide equal access to education for everybody," said Sun Heng, founder of a Beijing-based NGO named Migrant Workers Home Cultural and Development Center.
"Compared to public schools, the private schools for migrant workers' children have various problems. But what the government should do is to help the schools solve the problem, instead of removing them," Sun said.
"Since migrant workers live in suburban areas where there are few public schools, the government should support the private schools. If it fails to let the migrant workers' children feel that they are treated equally, I'm afraid it will have to spend more money building prisons for rebellious young people in the future," Sun said.
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