Shengliver’s Note: This entry features a Chinese teen called Lei. It was written last year when he was in his second year of high school. Next summer, Lei will sit the Chinese National Matriculation Test (NMT). Next autumn, he will be embarking on his higher education journey. Good luck, lad.

Normally I have one student assistant for one class, but in one of the classes I teach I have got two.

Sometime last term, I found my student assistant, Yang, overwhelmed by the chores that confronted him week in week out. He had to collect daily assignments, play audio for listening practice on the tape player every other evening, carry journals to my office on Friday afternoon, and gather and hand out test papers. An idea occurred to me. Why not have two student assistants sharing the load? I asked the class if anyone was interested in being a second helper.

Lei put his hand up. He has been my deputy assistant since then, responsible and helpful. Every Friday afternoon, Lei collects journals from the classmates and carries them all the way from the classroom to my office. Should some students procrastinate, he will urge them to hand in the writing.

Lei is a studious boy, but I have had a hunch for a long time that something weighs upon his mind, for he is melancholy and reticent in the classroom.

In a journal entry the other week, Lei expressed his aspirations for a better existence.

I wish I had my own room so that on holiday I could study undisturbed. We live in two rented rooms. There are three people in my family, Father, Mother and me. The smaller room is reserved for cooking, and the larger one for living and sleeping. My bed is just next to my parents’. In the future when I am independent, I will have my own house. I will make sure that my parents live a decent life.

Non-natives, the family migrated up here from Tianmen (a town in southern Hubei). I asked Lei if he was familiar with his hometown. He said he could remember very little of it because they did not go back to Tianmen very often.

The other week, Lei, infected with the flu, was down with a high fever. The parents took him to a clinic, where the doctor put him on a drip. His mother and father kept him company while he was being treated. Lei wrote:

My mother stayed with me all the while. My father was so worn out that he was lying on a bed next to mine catching some Zs. My parents toil too hard.

Curious about his parents’ occupations, I asked Lei to tell me more about what they do for a living in town. This is what the boy shared in the journal:

My parents work very hard. They bake and sell cakes on the street 24/7, even at festivals. Father gets up around 4 in the morning; Mother does a bit later. They bake and serve at their mobile food stand until midday. Then they have a break. Business resumes at 2 in the afternoon, and they do not call it a day until 8 pm. Every day, in total they put in a long 14 hours on the street. Meagre as the income is, they save up every fen just for my education. I am grateful to my parents for what I am blessed with—a warm home, decent clothes and an opportunity to learn at a great school. They have promised to buy a PC for me if I do well in the final exam. There is no reason why I should be lazing my schooldays away like some of my peers.

My family live somewhere downtown. Lei’s parents run their small food business in another district. In my neighbourhood on my shopping trips, I often come across vendors at food stalls, peddling cakes, noodles, or some other Chinese snacks or delicacies. Guys doing the jobs work long hours whatever the weather. At times they have to float here and there if the police on the beat chase them away. Most of them are migrant workers from rural China, who have come to the city for a better life.

The road ahead of Lei will be long and bumpy. I wish the boy well. Never give up on your education. Life may be hard now, but you can shape your destiny by the sweat of your brow. Your parents must be proud of you, and be proud of them, Lei. They are industrious honest folks.