In the autumn that I turned thirteen, I became a middle-schooler at Wesley Girls’ High. Located in a northern suburb of Taipei City, the school was founded by Methodist church and alumni of former McTyeire Girls School in Shanghai, including Madam Chiang Kai-Shek (née Soong Meiling).[1] With the mission of educating girls in “free China,” its curriculum emphasized in character building in addition to academic excellence. Initiated with the first 7th-Grade class in 1961, the school quickly became a sought-after choice for many parents and young girls.
The campus stretched out on a small hill by the bank of Waishuangsi (外雙溪, which means outer double creeks). All the buildings had Western architectural design: unsophisticated yet serene in their appearances. The main building, straight up a short climb from the gated entrance, was a three-floor rectangle compound. The administrative offices, library and audio/visual classroom were on the first floor. Classrooms, teachers’ offices and science labs were on the upper floors. Next to the main building was the auditorium where weekly worships and major ceremonies were held. Further up the hill was the audio/visual-education building where the language lab, the home-economics
classroom, art studio, music practice rooms and nurse’s room were located. Dining hall and dormitories were on top of the hills overlooking the valley. Faculty housing was on the other side of the creek. Married teachers lived there with their families, so did single male teachers. Sometimes, we could see young children playing outdoors.
The well-designed landscape blended beautifully with the natural surroundings. Taiwan was known of its mild climate: 四季如春 (all four seasons are like spring). Perhaps because of the mountainous geography, the changes of seasons were more pronounced in Waishuangsi than they were in the city. In early spring, violets would cover the grassy area. Azaleas soon brightened the hills. Red buds on the acer maples[2] in front of the dorms quickly turned into light green new leaves. Giant orange red flowers would open up on bombax ceibas (cotton trees). When the fragrance of gardenia filled the air, spring semester would be soon over. In the fall, we waited for the acer leaves to turn yellow and gold. It was a scene rarely seen in subtropical Taiwan. When the tree branches became bare, Christmas would be near. The gorgeous environment was perfect for nurturing developing minds of young girls.
There were three classes in each grade: Faith, Hope and Love. Although most of my classmates were from Taipei, a few of them were out-of-towners. Since we all lived together in the dorms, our origins didn’t matter much, except that students from other regions would not get to go home every weekend. Six of us shared a bedroom. Other than six twin-sized beds and small closets, there’s a table with stools. There wasn’t much room left to move around. A common area at the landing of each floor provided us spaces for group activities: evening prayers, reading, and occasional choir/play rehearsals.
On each floor, there was a small suite for two teachers. Most of them were in their twenties. Their suites were our sanctuaries. They took care of us in emergencies, answered our questions on homework; and, most often, provide us much need consultations while we transitioned into adulthood.
My parents brought us up to be independent. I knew how to take care of myself. So, it wasn’t difficult to say goodbye to mom after she dropped me off on the first day. Plus, I knew that there would be an eighth-grade “big sister” assigned to my bedroom helping us through the first semester. However, my transition into the new environment wasn’t entirely easy.
I lived in a very protective environment prior to that time. It wasn’t hard for me to stay at the top of my class. There were plenty adults giving me directions on when/how to do everything. Suddenly, no one was there to tell me where to go and what to do. And, everyone in my class was smart—many of them, much smarter than I. The first evening, during the study hours, I watched my classmates reading and working on exercises, feeling completely lost. None of the teachers assigned any homework; none of them assigned any reading. I wasn’t quite sure why we needed to be in the classroom for two hours.
Making the matter worse, our English teacher gave us a pop quiz on phonetic alphabets the next morning. I was wondering on the first day why we weren’t learning the words in the text book. Instead, we were taught some strange looking “things”: [θ], [ð], [i:], [I], [ʃ]. . .. Not having studied, I got my first ZERO in my life. It humbled me and settled me down quickly. But it also planted self-doubt in my young mind, which lingered for years.
Living at home, I could practice the piano whenever I found time. And, it was up to me to pay attention to the music (or not). At school, I had to sign up to use practice rooms. With limited time, I knew that I had to focus better. And, everyone walking by the building could hear me! I began to take music seriously.
The most difficult thing for me was to communicate with my classmates. I didn’t seem to speak their language and didn’t share too many common interests with them. No one was rejecting me. Yet, I felt like an odd duck.
Luckily, I trusted my homeroom teacher. Freshly out of college, she was only ten years older than we were. I spent countless evenings in her room seeking consultation. Often, we talked pass “lights-off” time. She would then walk me back to my room. As I moved on to higher classes, our evening conversations would continue. Without her patience and care, I would have had much harder time finding my place among my friends and in this world.
As time went by, I did make friends—not only with my classmates but also with girls in other grades. A few of us stayed in the same class for six years. Although we found our lives in different parts of the worlds, with the help of modern technology, we were able to remain in touch. Whenever we met together, instantly, we were back to the treasurable years that we shared together.
[1] Also established by Southern Methodist Church, McTyeire School in Shanghai was a leading institution for girls’ education in early twentieth century China. Mostly from elite families, its students received Western education in English.
McTyeire School-for-China’s-Daughters
The most famous alumni of McTyeire Girls’ School were the three Soong sisters. Their father Charlie Soong converted to Christian faith while a young man in America. Having made his fortune printing and selling Bibles, Soong befriended Dr. Sun Yat-Sen, the founder of Republic of China, and joined the revolution overturning the ruling of Qing Dynasty. The eldest daughter Ailing entered McTyeire at the age of five. Her two younger sisters, Qingling and Meiling followed. After graduation, all three girls attended Wesleyan College in Georgia, United States.
Through the marriages of the sisters, the Soong family had strong impact in the political and financial development of China throughout the twentieth century: Ailing married one of the richest men in China, H.H. Kung, who was influential in the economic policy of R.O.C. Qingling married Dr. Sun Yat-Sen; and Meiling
married Chiang Kai-Shek, Dr. Sun’s successor.
[2] 槭 Acer truncatum is a type of maple common in China and Korea. In Taiwan, maples are found only in higher altitude mountain regions. The character 槭 is often mispronounced as “qi/chi/ㄑㄧ.” The correct pronunciation should be “cù/tsù/ㄘㄨ`.”
