Support 130 teachers working in remote schools

Have you ever realized how close we are to misunderstanding a child?

“Teacher, see you.”

The boy known for “logging off in one second” officially transferred schools that day. His mother came suddenly in the afternoon to complete the paperwork. As I helped him pack up his things, I asked gently, “Can I give you a hug?”

Holding him, I said, “It might be hard at first in your new school. Hang in there. I believe you’ll grow stronger.”

Before leaving, I gave him the cards his classmates and I had written. He told me it was the first card he had ever received. He held it shyly, twisting his body a little, unsure how to respond.

I told him, “When I heard you were transferring, I felt sad. I even cried while talking about it with other teachers.”

His eyes suddenly became serious.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to me?” I asked.

“Thank you, teacher.”

And then, with our class fist-bump, he smiled and said softly, “See you.”

I Almost Missed the Chance to Truly Know Him

If I had to describe him, he was like an old computer with insufficient CPU—often shutting down in a second.

He struggled with attention. He was frequently scolded. Both teachers and classmates knew him as “that troublesome child.”

He was mainly raised by his grandmother. During phone calls at the start of the semester, I sensed distance from his parents. I had heard stories—that his parents “checked out,” that they weren’t involved.

Then one day, his mother came to school early to pick him up. It was my first time meeting her.

As we spoke, I began to see something different.

His father had been in and out of hospitals. His health was deteriorating. His mother was carrying the financial burden alone. When I asked how the family was doing, she replied calmly, “We’ve adjusted. We’ve accepted it. We’ll just do our best.”

That wasn’t the mother I had imagined.

I saw resilience. I saw exhaustion. I saw someone stretched thin between survival and caregiving.

Perhaps she hadn’t “logged out” of her son’s education.
Perhaps she simply had no more capacity left.

Every Child Has a Light Waiting to Be Seen

In our conversation, I told his mother what I saw in him.

On the second day of school, he had volunteered to run for vice class leader. He stood on stage and clearly explained his responsibilities and why he wanted the role. But because of his past behavior, classmates chose someone else.

Still, I saw him shining.

His mother once shared that he cried when seeing his father hospitalized, saying, “Our family is pitiful. Dad is sick, we’re poor, and my brother and I are always getting scolded.”

Behind his mischief was sensitivity. Imagination. A child trying to make sense of hardship.

The more I listened, the more layers unfolded.

With time, patience, and honest conversation, I began to believe deeply: he could become someone very different from the label he carried.

When We Choose to Look Again

Sometimes I wonder:

What if his mother had never come to school that day?
What if I had been too busy to start that conversation?

Would I still see him only through the lens of behavior?

In schools, things happen fast. We respond with instinct, experience, and sometimes unconscious bias. There isn’t always time to pause.

But equity often begins in that pause.

It begins when we choose not to let labels define a child.
When we allow room for different stories to emerge.
When we dare to believe that people—children and adults alike—can grow beyond their past.

“Every sincere conversation is a quiet resistance against misunderstanding.”

That is the lesson this child and his family taught me.

Thank You for Standing With Us

Because of your support, teachers can stay long enough to listen, to question assumptions, and to walk alongside families through complexity.

Your generosity allows Teach For Taiwan to support educators serving in rural communities—creating spaces where children are not reduced to labels, but seen in their full humanity.

Thank you for walking with us.

We warmly invite you to stay connected through our website, Instagram, and Facebook, where more stories of courage, growth, and understanding continue to unfold.

Together, we believe that one sincere conversation can open a different future.

Links:

• TFT website
• TFT Instagram
• TFT Facebook

Have you ever wondered how many times a child can start over?

How many “first days” can one hold before they begin to feel ordinary—or exhausting?

And what happens when constant change becomes a child’s everyday reality?

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another First Day—Again

In my first year of teaching, my class had 19 students.
By the second year, transfer students kept arriving—one after another.
The classroom grew more crowded, lessons were interrupted more often, and someone joked,
“You must be a great teacher—everyone keeps transferring here!”

But I couldn’t laugh.
What I saw were the quiet, heavy stories behind each transfer.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Children Who Are Always Starting Over

These children reminded me of seedlings blown by the wind.
Just as they begin to take root, they are uprooted again—forced to start over in a new place.

Behind every transfer is a lack of choice: changes in caregivers, learning struggles, parents moving for work.
Each move means rebuilding routines, relationships, and a sense of belonging—again and again.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rethinking Educational Equity

When we talk about educational equity, we often focus on resources or staffing.
But for children living in constant transition, what they need most is continuity— a classroom willing to wait, a community willing to welcome, and an education system that understands their life’s rhythm.

Perhaps true equity is not placing every child at the same starting line, but ensuring that even those pushed forward by life can keep learning—without having to repeatedly learn how to belong.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Changing What Children Arrive To

We may not be able to stop children from moving again and again.
But we can change what awaits them when they arrive.

Sometimes, education begins with something simple: open arms, a sincere smile, and the words—“You’re welcome here.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank You for Making This Possible

Your support makes stories like this possible.
Because of your generosity, Teach For Taiwan can continue supporting teachers and classrooms that become steady ground for children who are always starting over.

Every donation—especially your continued support—helps ensure these changes are not one-time moments, but lasting ones.
Thank you for walking with us and helping this work continue.

If you’d like to keep exploring these stories and the issues behind them, we invite you to stay connected with Teach For Taiwan through our website, Instagram, and Facebook. Together, we can keep the conversation—and the change—going.

Links:

• TFT website
• TFT Instagram
• TFT Facebook