The Powers That Be in China have decided to enforce the regulation that they will not grant a work visa to persons over 60 years of age. So it appears -- unless there is some province where the authorities are still bending the rules a bit -- that my China adventure will come to an end in about six weeks. My current work visa will expire and I won't be able to get a new one because I turned 60 last November. I hope that there are still some exceptions to this rule -- I hope to find some university in the hinterlands that is willing and able to take a chance on hiring a decrepit old foreigner.
Around the campus here, I see dozens of janitorial and landscaping staff, hard at work all day, who appear to be older than 60. And I see hundreds of seniors working on other public landscaping projects around town. Mandatory retirement appears to apply only to government and white collar workers, who also enjoy better pension benefits. For Chinese nationals, the current retirement age is 60 years for men, and 55 for women...
There is a strong social expectation that the retired women will look after their grandchild, while their daughters and daughters-in-law go to work. The grandfathers pitch in with the babies, as well. That said, the Chinese government is planning to raise the retirement age, for obvious economic (as in economic realities) and demographic reasons.
At any rate, I predict that this no-foreigners-over-60 rule will be revised or withdrawn before long, the demand for native English teachers being what it is, but probably not in time to change things for me, or many others in the same boat.
The reality of this hasn't really hit -- will I have to say goodbye to my students, colleagues and friends, and return to Canada and a very different lifestyle? Ross and I were planning to explore more of Asia -- we love the six weeks' winter vacation that comes working as a teacher at an institute of higher learning in China, and the low cost of roaming and flying wherever we pleased.
I'm not feeling particularly worried about not knowing where I will be come this September. September will come anyway. And meanwhile I want to cherish these last few weeks in Zibo, because the world that surrounds me here, which was once so alien and remarkable, is now familiar and routine and frankly, has become a second home.
I'm not feeling particularly worried about not knowing where I will be come this September. September will come anyway. And meanwhile I want to cherish these last few weeks in Zibo, because the world that surrounds me here, which was once so alien and remarkable, is now familiar and routine and frankly, has become a second home.
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