Support 130 teachers working in remote schools

When we were students, our learning outcomes were often measured by grades like A+ or a perfect score of 100. But after stepping into society, I realized that those evaluation frameworks never truly disappeared. They simply transformed into KPIs—yield rates, conversion rates, quarterly performance targets—metrics that each of us chase in our respective fields.

What “exam” have you faced—or are you facing now—in your own life?

Before joining Teach For Taiwan (TFT), I worked as a project planner in an arts and culture venue. My daily tests were how to successfully execute events, how to increase social media reach, and how to bring more visitors to the venue. The results of those “how-tos,” the data and performance numbers, became my report card.

With youthful ambition and a decent “scorecard” in hand, I made the decision: I want to be a good teacher. I joined TFT and was placed in a coastal village in Yunlin that I had never even heard of, becoming a first-grade homeroom teacher.

But my confidence as a new teacher didn’t last long. As unexpected challenges came up throughout the semester, my self-assurance gradually wore down.

“Why does it take so long just to write their class number and name on the textbook?”
“Please, don’t get restless when the teaching supervisor is observing the class!”

And when I saw my students’ first midterm results, I felt completely exposed.

“They’re only in first grade, but how could some students score just in the 80s on math?”
Why couldn’t I help my students meet my expectations?
Would other teachers think I wasn’t capable when they saw the average score?
Am I… a failing teacher?

That day, while halfheartedly guiding students through their corrections, I was tangled in anxious thoughts about how I would explain myself to parents, colleagues, and even to myself. Suddenly, one child looked up at me with determined eyes and said:
“Teacher, I didn’t do well in math this time. But I want to do better next time. I’ll practice harder.”

Those words pulled me out of the whirlpool.

Did I want to be the kind of teacher praised as “good at teaching”?
Or did I want to be the kind of teacher who understands and respects each child’s differences, walking alongside them at their own pace?

In that moment, as I looked back at the child and we shared a smile, I felt more grounded and resolute in the kind of education I wanted to pursue.

*“No problem,” I told the class. “We will keep getting better together.”