Children of Chinese migrant workers who move from the countryside struggle to get educated in cities, but a school with an Irish link is helping change this, writes Clifford Coonanin Beijing

Wu Jun is 16 and comes from central Henan province. Without the existence of Bai Nian Vocational School (BNVS), a beacon of educational hope down a dusty alleyway in the Chinese capital, she would have missed her slim chance at getting ahead. The working world in an increasingly competitive China is a difficult place these days. But with the Year of the Pig, a particularly lucky year, starting next Sunday, Wu Jun is feeling confident before the new moon.

Within skipping distance of the Wangfujing shopping street, an alleyway leads to the well-kept school which is offering the children of migrant workers the chance of a future. There are around 140 million migrant labourers in China, and more than 20 million children live with their grandparents or other relatives because their parents have moved to other provinces in search of work. The ones who accompany their parents, such as Jun, are often deprived of an education.

Jun's brother was in the first intake and he told her about BNVS - she's lucky, because often a daughter's education is neglected to allow a son attend school. She is one of four children - rural families are often bigger, while the one-child policy is more strictly enforced in the city. "Both of my parents are here to work, though they have no regular jobs. I'd like to learn to be an electrician though someday I hope to work in an office. It's great here - if I wasn't at the school I would have no chance to study," she says.

Space is at a premium at BNVS, which means everything has a practical application and a dual purpose. The school's toilets are used normally by students, but are fitted out like office and hotel bathrooms so they also work as training facilities for those learning hotel and cleaning skills to practise. There is a huge painting wall outside the school, which trainee painters use to practice their brushstrokes.

The students are the usual boisterous hormonal teenagers that you see all over the world, and they are incredibly polite and friendly - stopping as teachers or visitors pass to bow and say hello. The Confucian system of respect for your elders is strongly advocated here, as is the deep Chinese respect for education.

The focus is extremely practical. Students are taught how to take orders in a restaurant, to change lightbulbs in an apartment building or grease a valve in a machine shop. The school's founder is a former property management executive called Yao Li, an energetic woman who has long links to Ireland and wastes no opportunity to hustle in the school's interests.

"The main purpose is to help the families of migrant workers and change their situation. I don't think it's fair for them to live without welfare and education. Because they come from outside the city, the government's resources are not enough to cover their needs," she says in her office, lined with books and periodicals donated to the school.

What started as a hobby almost turned into a full-time job. Originally the plan was to run the school part-time, but she soon realised it was a full-time project and now has a team of managers running her property management business.

"You have to give 100 per cent. People give in different ways - whether it's teaching hours, suggestions or money, but you are the one to organise everything. It's not what I expected at the beginning. The daily operation is more difficult than expected," she says.

The Irish Government has been one of the biggest benefactors to this school, which teaches the skills young Chinese people need in a booming economy. It has donated a language lab, where students learn practical language skills, such as hotel English. Three students studying in their lunch-break take the opportunity to meet a foreigner, saying hello and asking me how I am.

Motorola has built a machine shop in the school and the school's Christmas party last year featured a speech by Ambassador Declan Kelleher - in Chinese, which must be a first for an Irish diplomat - and raised around €160,000. During one visit to Dublin Yao visited the FÁS training centre and she is clearly interested in the Irish vocational education model.

The Irish links extend to Yao's daughter Kuan Tian, who spent three and a half years in Ireland, including time at Kylemore Abbey, and she is doing an internship at Tourism Ireland. "She has a deep emotional link to Ireland and feels part of Ireland and proud of that time in Ireland," Yao says.

The plight of millions of migrant workers who make the products driving China's economic miracle, and build the gleaming skyscrapers of the new cities, is getting worse, despite government efforts to bridge a yawning income gap.

Around 800 million of China's 1.3 billion people live in the countryside, and in the past 20 years they have come in their millions to the rich cities of the eastern seaboard and Beijing. Migrant labourers earn an average of 966 yuan, (€96), every month, which is more than a farmer earns but well shy of what your average city resident earns. Half earn less than €80 a month, and 20 per cent earn less than €50 a month, according to a survey by the National Bureau of Statistics (NBS).

Migrants set up rough-and-ready schools for their children, which are reminiscent of the hedge schools in Ireland. These makeshift schools are often poorly equipped and offer little beyond a basic education. Many have been closed by the government as they fall short of required standards.

"The schools run by the migrant workers were very bad. They have improved a little but you wouldn't believe there could be schools like this in Beijing today. And there are hundreds of schools like that," she says. These schools offer only a junior level of education and do not give a chance to anyone wanting to go to high school.

The Chinese government acknowledges the plight of migrant workers and has made efforts to improve their lot by eliminating restrictions on companies employing migrant workers, opening up public job agencies and providing information and training, as well as trying to pressure bosses to pay on time.

To find students for the school, teams of volunteers went into the countryside, to hotels and building sites and factories, handing out flyers. There were sceptical reactions.

"They said 'we don't believe you, because there's no way it can be free. It has to cost something'. But after we did radio advertising, many people started to come," she says.

The school has room for 100 students. This year there are 89, last year there were 84. The rules are strict and anyone who doesn't work hard is dismissed. But no one here takes education for granted - announcements that places have been granted to students are greeted with tears of gratitude. It's rare to find anyone in China who doesn't appreciate the great opportunity education offers.

"We want to remind people that this is not only a charity, it's also about supplying the labour market and society. It's a way of helping poor people and helping business. It's more practical than idealistic," says Yao.