Support 130 teachers working in remote schools

Thank you for your donation. Your contribution is the best support for every TFT teachers. We would like to share a letter written by our on-site teachers with you:

A Letter from a Teacher: To Those on Their Own Journey

Hello, I’m Liang-Jin, a alumna of Teach For Taiwan’s 6th cohort.

I wonder how you’ve been lately.
Are you content with where you are in life?
Have you felt like the world’s been a little unkind?
And most importantly — do you like the person you are today?

I hope the story I’m about to share offers you some inspiration.

Let me start with the ending:
“I’ve parted ways with the school where I served for four years.”

Growing up in a family that was neither wealthy nor harmonious, I’ve always remained grateful for my upbringing. My father, though convinced he had lived a failed life, always supported me along the way. My mother, even while fighting to survive, always prioritized our education.

This thorny path shaped who I am. After graduating from National Chengchi University, I constantly wondered how I could give back for all I had received. That’s how I embarked—almost as if guided by fate—on this magical journey with TFT.

Just one month after being accepted into the program, and only three months into my school placement, both my father and grandmother passed away. Combined with the uncertainty of being new to education and the crushing weight of expectations, this journey to the moon quickly began to feel like a descent into hell.

“What will you do with your fortune?”

During the two-year commitment, sacrifice and devotion became part of my daily routine. I tried to love the students in my own way, constantly pushing myself to be someone worthy of their trust and admiration.

Of course, facing failure side-by-side with my students every day, and being hurt repeatedly by the harsh realities of adult interactions, was also part of the deal. Yet just before the program ended, I realized that all the sweat and tears had grown into a deep, tangled kind of love.

So staying on to continue with the children felt only natural.

In my third year, I moved up with my students to the fifth grade and took on the role of discipline coordinator. It was the hardest I’ve ever worked—and also the cruelest year of all. Besides being involved in the learning journey of all the students at the school, I also led a robotics team that went on to win many awards.

At the same time, I had to let go of my position as their homeroom teacher. I watched helplessly as my students struggled and slowly drifted apart academically, unable to be the support they needed anymore.

Ironically, because I did well in my coordinator role that year, I had to separate from my students in the final year.

This year, I became a subject teacher and focused solely on my administrative duties. Though I was only a guest in their classroom, I found my own way to support the kids. Sitting in the office, I watched them grow so fast—and fell in love all over again with how brightly they shined. In their light, I began to rediscover the part of me that once dared to chase without fear.

Supporting children’s learning from an administrative position, I found myself loving not only the students, but also my colleagues—and, unexpectedly, myself.

Work harder. Be more patient. Give more. Keep being kind. Believe in the kindness of others.
Even when I became a punching bag for the children’s frustrations.
Even when not everyone agreed with my methods.
I still chose to be kind, and to always put the children first.

I have finally become the change I once longed to see.

At graduation, I cried harder than I ever did at any funeral—completely overwhelmed by love for these children. Through the days when I became “part family,” we grew together. They weren’t the only ones learning. I grew up too.

Though I never imagined our relationship would one day come to an end, the time has come for me to move on and head toward the next station of life. Even now, I don’t consider myself a great teacher. But as a person, I know I’ve given it my all.

What surprised me most was the peace I felt in saying goodbye. Looking back at these four unforgettable years—because I gave everything, I have no regrets; because I cared deeply, I feel no shame.

To you who might be going through a tough time right now:
Life is made of moments—no reasons, no answers, just the now.
If this moment is perfect, then perhaps there’s no such thing as flaw.

The dreams, the ideal version of yourself you once imagined—they are already here, in you.
Even though it’s hard, even when it breaks your heart, when you summon the courage to chase what you once wrote in an old school essay—stroke by stroke, moment by moment—that version of you will come into focus.

Doubt the journey, and your day will be filled with doubt.
Embrace the journey, and you’ll look back with joy.
You can’t fool yourself, so you might as well live with all your heart.

That’s my story, and I want to thank you—
For listening,
For caring about education,
For treating your life with sincerity,
And simply… for being here.

Thank you.