Empower rural Taiwan children through activities

Thank you for your donation. We would like to share an article written by our on-site teachers with you:

The Boy Who Taught Me That Growth Isn’t Always Measured in Scores

(Nono) is a sensitive and thoughtful boy in my class—quiet at first glance, yet surprisingly athletic. He’s what you might call a “half-sports kid”—not academically strong, and he’s well aware of it. In fact, he had almost given up on himself entirely when the school year began.

During the first semester, I often saw him murmuring quietly to himself—little fragments of emotion slipping out in whispers. It was clear that he wanted to say something but just didn’t have the courage to speak it aloud. I knew then that if I wanted to reach him, I would have to be patient.

I tried everything. At first, I asked him questions directly. Then I tried more subtle ways—offering empathy, sharing my own stories, letting him know that I was someone he could trust. Slowly, little by little, he started to open up.

You see, throughout his childhood, Nono had rarely encountered teachers who were willing to just sit with him and listen. More often, he was dismissed by adults who said things like, “This is nothing. You’re just not trying hard enough,” or “With grades like this, what do you expect?”

"Why Try, If I Always Fail Anyway?"

After gaining Nono’s trust, the next small goal was helping him speak honestly about how he felt about learning. He finally said, “I am trying. I really am. But why is it still like this? Maybe I should just stop trying at all—because no matter what I do, I’m still bad at it.”

As a teacher, those words broke my heart. It made me ask—what kind of system makes a child feel hopeless about learning? And why did I feel so helpless to fix it?

Then an idea came to me. I have a free after-school tutoring session every week. Any student who got their parents’ approval could stay and get extra help. To my surprise, Nono—who usually spent his after-school hours in a sports club—signed up.

Week by week, something changed. During our sessions, he started asking questions—not just to me, but to other teachers too. I saw him slowly opening up, becoming more engaged. He started to show real progress, both in his learning and in how he interacted with others.

To me, trying a different approach to learning was already a sign of growth. But to Nono, growth meant only one thing: higher scores.And so, it felt like we were stuck in place again.

After an exam, I watched from the front of the classroom as Nono looked at his test paper—still a failing grade. I saw the disappointment in his face, and I felt the pain from across the room. After class, my colleagues and I tried different ways to encourage him. We reminded him how much he’d improved, how effort shows up in many ways—not just in numbers.

When Effort Finally Pays Off

Before the next monthly test, Nono didn’t give up. He studied hard to grasp the concepts he struggled with. When he didn’t understand something from the first teacher, he’d go to a second. If that still didn’t work, he’d find a third. He wouldn’t stop until he truly understood.

And then, in the final math test of fifth grade—he improved by 31 points. He even won the “Most Improved” award, something he had never dreamed of achieving.

For the first time, Nono saw his efforts reflected in real results.

I believe that on the journey of learning, everyone has had moments when they wanted to give up. But how we choose to face those moments—that becomes the nourishment that shapes our path forward.

“Hey Nono! Next semester, let’s keep our math steady—and start working harder on Chinese, alright?” That was the goodbye I gave him on our last day of the school year.

We still have one more year together. And I believe—in all the parts of school that tests don’t measure—we’ll grow even more.

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