BEIJING Close to sunset, the Chinese national flag above Peach Garden School cast a long shadow on the muddy ground. Thirteen-year-old Li Jianrou, the daughter of migrant workers from Hebei, still lingered with friends in their ramshackle classroom. A peek into her home, just a minute away, soon reveals why the fifth-grade student spends all her spare time at school.

The tiny room in northwest Beijing contains little besides her parents' bed, which they share with Li's younger brother, and her own bed, separated from theirs by a torn curtain. Several migrant families occupy homes around this run-down courtyard rented from local farmers. Some recycle rubbish, others -- like Liu's parents -- hawk crafts at a nearby market. All are grateful for the dirty jobs increasingly spurned by China's city-dwellers.

It is a far cry from the capital Li dreamed of when her parents deserted their ancestral village in pursuit of work and a better life. Left behind with her grandmother, Li longed to see Tiananmen Square, skyscrapers, bustling streets and other incredible sights. "I couldn't bear to live without my children," mother Qiao Jiping explained, "but I couldn't just let them hang around without schooling."