Back to work
Blogging has been light the last several months. My access to the blogger platform has been spotty, due mostly to interruptions in my VPN. Also, just this past fall I began working part-time for the same Chinese magnet company that employs Randy.
From a financial standpoint, it wasn't terribly urgent for me to get back to more regular work. A second paycheck, even as a half-income, is always welcome, especially when it doesn't come with giving up some portion of it to child care. By the way, that has long been the biggest obstacle to my returning to full-time work. The cost of daycare, or sitters, or a nanny, or (special to our lives in China) tuition at a school of any kind would eat so much into my paycheck that I would have to be driven more by passion than any economic need.
However, something happened at Randy's work that necessitated my coming out of this temporary retirement. Mr. H, the engineer that I have blogged about so often, left the company last year. He and Randy had previously worked together in Shenzhen, and he joined us here in Beijing shortly after our arrival. Mr. H did amazing work, but, unfortunately, a hùkǒu situation eventually caught up with him.
I just searched my archives here, and I cannot believe I have not blogged much about hùkǒu. It is, simply, the household registration system. It dictates where a Chinese citizen can own property, go to school, and receive government services. Even though China has seen so much internal migration in the last thirty years, the hùkǒu system remains and governs all.
Mr. H, being a native of Baotou in Inner Mongolia, still held Baotou hùkǒu, despite his moves around the country for work. His wife was originally from Shandong Province. When their daughter (I'll call her Little H) was born, she inherited her father's hùkǒu. Little H was able to enroll in kindergarten and public elementary school here in Changping, even without local hùkǒu. It was a very unusual situation for migrants, even in the mid-professional class. The parents and their school-aged child were able to live under the same roof, far from any of their places of birth.
The time arrived for the daughter to move from elementary school to middle school. Before that could happen, though, Mr H was told that Changping schools were in the process of reducing class sizes by eliminating the migrant children from the rolls. They were targeting specifically children transitioning from one school to the next, so migrants in fifth grade would not continue to middle school. Middle schoolers without Changping hùkǒu could not go on to high school locally.
Little H was caught up in this, so she and her mother moved to Baotou. Mind you, Mr. H's wife was not from Baotou herself, so she moved there knowing only a few of Mr. H's family and friends. Mr. H remained here in Changping to work. He got a driver's license and bought a car so he would not have to depend on the slow train from Changping to Inner Mongolia for long weekends and holidays with his family. Living this way for a year, he resigned last summer and moved home. Mr. H's responsibilities had to be redistributed, and I was brought in initially to take care of technical matters that relied on his excellent command of English.
We have another colleague who is trying to avoid a similar fate. Ms. Y is our marketing manager. Married with a toddler son of her own, Ms. Y has been active in getting her hùkǒu transferred to Beijing from her hometown in northern Hebei. Ms Y's husband also works in Beijing, so they purchased an apartment before they were married in a new complex in Changping. At the time, only a few years ago, these would have been possibly satisfactory steps towards the government giving new hùkǒu: professional employment in technical industries by both college-educated spouses and home ownership. The problem for Ms Y and her family is that the criteria continue to change. Currently, Ms. Y has been told that if she or her husband get an advanced degree (right now a master's would suffice), then their chances of transferring hùkǒu would be greatly improved. Ms. Y found an Executive MBA program here in Beijing that would allow her to complete the requirements on weekends, and, most importantly, graduate well before her son is ready for first grade. As long as the city does not change the conditions again, she and her family will be able to remain together in the home they own in Changping through her son's school years. He would be able to take Gaokao here as a Beijinger, and go on to a university spot already reserved for someone with the right hùkǒu.
From a financial standpoint, it wasn't terribly urgent for me to get back to more regular work. A second paycheck, even as a half-income, is always welcome, especially when it doesn't come with giving up some portion of it to child care. By the way, that has long been the biggest obstacle to my returning to full-time work. The cost of daycare, or sitters, or a nanny, or (special to our lives in China) tuition at a school of any kind would eat so much into my paycheck that I would have to be driven more by passion than any economic need.
However, something happened at Randy's work that necessitated my coming out of this temporary retirement. Mr. H, the engineer that I have blogged about so often, left the company last year. He and Randy had previously worked together in Shenzhen, and he joined us here in Beijing shortly after our arrival. Mr. H did amazing work, but, unfortunately, a hùkǒu situation eventually caught up with him.
I just searched my archives here, and I cannot believe I have not blogged much about hùkǒu. It is, simply, the household registration system. It dictates where a Chinese citizen can own property, go to school, and receive government services. Even though China has seen so much internal migration in the last thirty years, the hùkǒu system remains and governs all.
Mr. H, being a native of Baotou in Inner Mongolia, still held Baotou hùkǒu, despite his moves around the country for work. His wife was originally from Shandong Province. When their daughter (I'll call her Little H) was born, she inherited her father's hùkǒu. Little H was able to enroll in kindergarten and public elementary school here in Changping, even without local hùkǒu. It was a very unusual situation for migrants, even in the mid-professional class. The parents and their school-aged child were able to live under the same roof, far from any of their places of birth.
The time arrived for the daughter to move from elementary school to middle school. Before that could happen, though, Mr H was told that Changping schools were in the process of reducing class sizes by eliminating the migrant children from the rolls. They were targeting specifically children transitioning from one school to the next, so migrants in fifth grade would not continue to middle school. Middle schoolers without Changping hùkǒu could not go on to high school locally.
Little H was caught up in this, so she and her mother moved to Baotou. Mind you, Mr. H's wife was not from Baotou herself, so she moved there knowing only a few of Mr. H's family and friends. Mr. H remained here in Changping to work. He got a driver's license and bought a car so he would not have to depend on the slow train from Changping to Inner Mongolia for long weekends and holidays with his family. Living this way for a year, he resigned last summer and moved home. Mr. H's responsibilities had to be redistributed, and I was brought in initially to take care of technical matters that relied on his excellent command of English.
We have another colleague who is trying to avoid a similar fate. Ms. Y is our marketing manager. Married with a toddler son of her own, Ms. Y has been active in getting her hùkǒu transferred to Beijing from her hometown in northern Hebei. Ms Y's husband also works in Beijing, so they purchased an apartment before they were married in a new complex in Changping. At the time, only a few years ago, these would have been possibly satisfactory steps towards the government giving new hùkǒu: professional employment in technical industries by both college-educated spouses and home ownership. The problem for Ms Y and her family is that the criteria continue to change. Currently, Ms. Y has been told that if she or her husband get an advanced degree (right now a master's would suffice), then their chances of transferring hùkǒu would be greatly improved. Ms. Y found an Executive MBA program here in Beijing that would allow her to complete the requirements on weekends, and, most importantly, graduate well before her son is ready for first grade. As long as the city does not change the conditions again, she and her family will be able to remain together in the home they own in Changping through her son's school years. He would be able to take Gaokao here as a Beijinger, and go on to a university spot already reserved for someone with the right hùkǒu.
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