When was the last time you sent a work-related email from your iPhone or home computer OUTSIDE of work? Did you record the minutes you spent writing it, then send that info to your boss? Did you get paid overtime?

The line between work and home is fading, writes former Financial Times columnist Richard Donkin in his new book called The Future of Work.

USA Today ran a review of the book yesterday.

Donkin's observations about how technology is merging work and home life aren't new. But his book calls attention to questions that concern just about every working professional I know who carries a BlackBerry or iPhone.

With 50 percent of workers checking their office email on weekends, what counts as "work" anyway? ABC News ran into that question in 2008 when it presented three workers with a waiver stating that they would not be paid overtime for checking their company-issued BlackBerrys outside regular office hours.

At the time, it seemed that the company was trying to avoid paying time-and-a-half for one-minute sessions spent checking email. Understandable. But now that many on-the-go reporters, including those at ABC, spend more and more time getting the news out on sites like Twitter, what exactly do companies consider "office hours"?

Arguably, staying connected with a mobile device allows many professionals to do their jobs more effectively. Like journalists, for instance, who know that news never follows a 9-to-5 schedule.

But for these professionals, balancing work and home is getting harder, and determining what counts as "work hours" is increasingly difficult. Take doctors, PR reps, campaign managers, or others whose jobs require them to be on call just about 24/7. Should they be paid for checking email, taking phone calls or scheduling appointments outside work?

I enjoy grad school, but one thing I miss about having a full-time job is breathing a sigh of relief after leaving the office -- instead of coming home and starting a paper, or wading through stacks of reading for class the next day. What will the future of work look like? Well, we grad students actually have a word for it. It's called "homework."

In addition to setting up schools for migrant children, the New Citizen Schools Development Program also coordinates with and gives support to smaller non-profit organizations which share its goals. Last week, I got to visit one of these NGOs, called the Workers' Children Cultural Development Center (nongminzhizi wenhua fazhan zhongxin).

The organization's coordinator, Teacher Zhang, met us close to a bus station in the far north of Beijing. The neighborhood is called Bantu Village and is home to many families who have come to the city to find work. According to Teacher Zhang, more than 30,000 migrant workers live here.

We walked past carts selling oranges, big stacks of coal and messy piles and construction materials. Teacher Zhang led us through this road doorway into a little courtyard and into the office.

The organization's primary project is a neighborhood library, which it opened on October 1, 2009. The total estimated cost of setting up this library, including staff salaries and subsidies for volunteers, was 103,000 RMB or about USD $15,087.

Even though it's only been open a few months, the library already regularly attracts about 200 students, Teacher Zhang said. Most of them attend schools in the neighborhood, which have few resources, and no libraries.

All the books have been donated by community organizations, families and other groups. There are lots of children's books, and some random ones, including this one on communicable diseases.

There is a book borrowing log where students sign their names when they check out and return books. The library doesn't have set hours, but is open daily. (Teacher Zhang lives next door.)

This is the main office. This small NGO was founded in 2006 by a student volunteer group from Beijing Normal University. It has two staff members and 20 regular volunteers. The staff also visit families and provide assistance with education at home.

A room adjacent to the tiny library has four computers. We sat in this room, drinking hot water and eating oranges around a small stove, which provided the only heat in the room.

At the end of my visit, Teacher Zhang gave me a picture of a rooster painted on very thin rice paper. It had been painted by a Chinese activist who was a friend of the organization.

Before she joined this NGO, Teacher Zhang worked in education. She and the other permanent staff member are paid 1500 RMB per month or about USD $220. Their goal in the next two years is to create a network of libraries in Beijing and Shanghai, that will offer more programs and improve education for more migrant children.

Since the Narada Foundation is a larger, more established NGO, it was interesting for me to visit this smaller organization and see how they are already making a big impact on this community with their library.

One of the most interesting parts of my internship has been getting to know the staff of the New Citizen School Development Center. They're mostly women in their twenties, fresh out of college and passionate about working for an NGO. Because NGOs are a relatively new concept in China, these women are exploring a field that their parents and many of their peers know very little about.

The staff proudly call themselves "social workers" (shegong) and hold degrees in social work, education and human resources management. They come from places across China, including Sichuan, Liaoning and Qinghai. Working at an education-related NGO is more interesting than being a teacher, one said, because the daily tasks are more varied and interesting.

Recently, more of their peers are getting interested in this field. America has its Gen X and Gen Y; China has its "After-80" generation (balinghou, 80后), people who were born after 1980. Like Gen X/Y, the After-80s get a lot of flak from their parents and grandparents' generations. Older citizens complain that the After-80s haven't suffered as they did during the turbulent first decades of the new republic and that they are spoiled, self-centered and obsessed with money, brand names and consumerism. (That hasn't been the case with the After-80s I've met here.)

Since China introduced its one-child policy in 1979, most young people also grew up as only children, with all the love and attention that comes from being doted on by two parents and four grandparents. Because of this, they are also under a great deal of pressure to succeed in school and their careers. As an only child myself, I can empathize!

China's opening and rapid development has also shaped the lives of the After-80s. Besides exposing them to Western culture -- including movies, clothing, brands, ideas and social norms -- China's growth has also inspired tremendous pride in its young citizens, who want their country to succeed after years of struggling -- even if those years of strife are only lessons they've learned from parents and textbooks.

I've found that the young women of the New Citizen Schools Development Center share a passion for contributing to society in a positive way. While China is getting rich, inequality is growing and the government is finding it more difficult to provide everyone with essential social services, including education. The staff here recognize this and are pioneering a new model for education -- NGO-managed schools.

Working in this new field hasn't always been easy for them personally. For example, I asked what their parents thought of their work. "They have many thoughts," one said, laughing. She explained that her father was a very successful businessman in their hometown in Wenzhou. Her family expected her to study business; instead she came to Beijing to work in migrant education. At first, her job was difficult for her parents to understand, she said, but added: "they respect my decision."

"My parents don't really know what I'm doing," her co-worker added. "But they support me."

The young staff of the New Citizen School Development Center say social work is a challenging and rewarding job.

Almost an hour from Xinyuan, another New Citizen School is also trying to educate China's future citizens -- although with even fewer resources.

Located out towards the Beijing airport, the New Citizen School in Ma Ge Zhuang is a collection of low concrete buildings surrounding two wide courtyards covered in soot-caked snow. The surrounding area is pretty run-down, with a market or two, and stray dogs and cats vying for food.

When we visited on Tuesday, school had finished and the students had all gone home for the Spring Festival holiday. Two young co-workers from the New Citizen School Development Center showed me around the empty classrooms and offices.

The school has between 700 and 800 kindergarten (xiaoxue) to junior high school (chuzhong) students, with about 50 students to one teacher. With the help of the Narada Foundation, the original school was converted into a New Citizen School in 2008.

One of the school's administrators appeared from nowhere and invited us to have a look at the cafeteria. Inside, several more staff were laughing and standing around cooking up a big bowl of meat and vegetable stew over a burner. They welcomed us into the tiny kitchen and insisted that we eat with them (really, when someone invites you to eat with them in China, it's impossible to say 'no.')

We scooped big spoonfuls of the stew into little metal bowls and stood around the pot, chatting. The stew was delicious; you had to gnaw the meat off the bones. There was no heat, and three fat cats ran around our feet, mewing for hand-outs. There was another metal pot filled with hot cola (yes, soda) and ginger, which you're supposed to drink to prevent getting a cold.

I asked if the stew was typical fare for the students. No, they said -- this was a special occasion because school had just finished.

This is the cafeteria. It holds about 40 students at a time. The school has two chefs and only serves lunch -- students eat breakfast and dinner at home. (School meals can often be an incentive for parents to send children to school.)

After thanking the staff and helping them clean up (same custom in China as in Hawaii!), we continued our campus tour.

China is the world's largest consumer of coal, primarily because it's cheap and abundant. During the winter, many homes, schools and other buildings burn coal to produce electricity for heat. Nearly 70 percent of electricity in this country is derived from coal.

Unfortunately, the widespread use of coal by everyone from families to factories produces toxic pollution and one of the main obstacles to China's controlling carbon emissions. But somehow I doubt that global warming is a primary concern at this school...

We stepped inside a new complex for big celebrations (like Chinese New Year), which can accommodate students from several schools. The addition had been built on top of other buildings that were partially torn down.

Banners welcome three big financial supporters of the New Citizen Schools: JP Morgan Chase; International SOS, an international health care provider; and Wanda Group, a large Chinese commercial property developer.

Inside this classroom, chairs were pushed back from desks and notebooks strewn everywhere -- it seemed everyone was in a hurry to go on vacation. The classroom had been converted from an old building that served another purpose, maybe a store or office. Lots of wires dangled from the ceiling high above our heads. The walls and floor were concrete, and there was a fan on the wall to cool the classroom during the summer. The classroom was heated during the winter, but since school was out, it was very cold inside. That day, I needed the extra layer.

One of the cats followed us in and hopped up on one of the desks to sniff around.

Someone had drawn a cow on one of the desks.

One wall in the social workers' office at the school was covered with notes bearing individual wishes. This one says: "My heart's desire (xinyuan) is to go and watch an NBA competition."

As we were leaving the school, a portrait of a man posted on the wall of one of the buildings caught my eye. "Ge De," one of the girls said. "A Western philosopher. You don't recognize him?"

In fact, I had no idea who "Ge De" was, until I Googled it later. Goethe. I couldn't find this exact quote, but it says something like "Only when you appreciate your own value can you add value to the world."

Seeing that the school could afford few things of great material value, this message about self worth seemed appropriate and important. It made me wonder about the value of physical resources in education, versus the immaterial -- the structure of the curriculum, for example, the skills of individual teachers, or the atmosphere. Can schools really give students the tools to become the next generation of leaders when they have so little to work with?

Principal Li reminds me a bit of my grandfather. His tough, brown face is creased by deep lines, which almost hide the youthful playfulness and optimism of his eyes. He sits across from me at the enormous conference table drinking tea and talks at length about a subject he knows very well: education.

The Narada Foundation has set up three New Citizen Schools in Beijing. One is about to be "relocated" (chaiqian), which often happens to structures in China's hurricane of development. The schools are specifically for rural migrant children, many of whom wouldn't be able to attend public schools in the city, either because of their rural hukou (residency permit) status or because they can't afford the school fees.

The foundation is fulfilling a serious need. There are hundreds of privately-run migrant schools in Beijing and, by some estimates, 4 million migrant workers and 300,000 migrant children. A few weeks ago, the government announced that it would allocate 2 billion yuan (USD 293 million) to migrant schools. According to Narada's web site, the organization wants to establish 100 New Citizen Schools in the next 5 to 10 years.

On Friday, we visited the Xinyuan School in southern Beijing, where Mr. Li is the principal.

Based on some reports I had read about migrant schools, I had braced myself for the worst. I even put on an extra layer of clothing in case there was no heat (it was probably 20 degrees that day.)

But the school, while very simple, turned out to be fairly comfortable and clean. Principal Li led me and Ms. Zhang, from the New Citizen School Development Center, to visit three classes of students from different grade levels. There were about 40 or 50 students per class and it was pretty crowded. The moment we walked in, everyone suddenly kicked back their chairs, stood up and shouted in unison: "Welcome to our school!" first in Chinese, then English. As there were so many of them, it was a little startling, but after finishing the greeting, they all relaxed a little and stared curiously. Drawings, papers and other artwork decorated the walls, and Principal Li gestured to them proudly.

A girl in the first row had led her classmates in the greeting, and I approached her and asked her, in English, "Where do you come from?" She looked away and repeated nervously, "come from....", then with a little encouragement, smiled and answered.

"Your English is really good," I told her.

Principal Li has been in academia for decades and survived the academic and political turmoil of the Cultural Revolution. Now that things have calmed down a little, the main concern on his mind is resources -- teachers, desks, books, etc. Teaching the students basic reading and writing is a priority, as is teaching them English.

Principal Li tells us a story about when he was traveling abroad and wanted some hot water to drink, but couldn't communicate with any of the servers because he spoke no English. He says China is becoming increasingly international. With a knowledge of English, he says, the current students at his school will have a much greater chance of finding a good job. He is very interested in the New Citizen School program and especially in the model of NGO-managed schools.

"What is a 'new citizen'?" he asks. "In the future, what kind of citizens will China have? What kind of citizens will China need?"

After treating us both to lunch, Principal Li asked for my help in developing his school's English program. At that moment, I wasn't exactly sure what to say. Other than contacting all my English-speaking Beijing friends and asking if they want to volunteer their time, where could I help? I don't live in Beijing, so it's impossible for me to personally volunteer at the school. I don't have much teaching experience, so I don't know if any teaching plan I devise will be helpful, or even feasible.

But the point of this internship is for me to be a helper and a facilitator, and not just an observer. Maybe my ability to help is just not obvious to me quite yet. Maybe there is something that I can do. I thanked Principal Li and told him that I would help wherever I could.