Early morning on December 3, 1996, my phone rang. Reluctantly, I reached out of my warm comforter for the receiver. The voice of a college classmate was on the other end. I was extremely grumpy while she sounded hesitant. Instead of the usual greeting, she asked if 彭婉如 (Peng Wan-ru) was my teacher in high school—a question that seemed to have come out of nowhere. I said, “Yes.” Then came the shocking news: . . .
In the film Dead Poets Society, John Keaton, Robin Williams’ character, led the students marching in the courtyard. Gradually, their steps synchronized. He alerted the youngsters the danger of following the conventional wisdom blindly. The scene never fails to remind me of a very special teacher in my past.
I attended Wesley Girls’ High, a Methodist boarding school, for six years. Many of our teachers lives in the dorms with us. Some of them were not much older than we were. Naturally, we gravitated to them, confiding our teenage troubles.
In my 10th-grade year a new Chinese teacher joined the faculty. Tall and big-boned, she wore glasses and always had a smile on her face. She spoke with a deep but energetic voice. New to us, she and her husband, a mathematician, has been friends with several of our teachers. Even though she lived in the city and commuted by the faculty bus daily, she quickly became popular among students. The first year I only knew her by reputation.
The following year she was assigned to teach my class Citizenship Education (公民教育), in which we studied the governmental organization and Three Principles of the People(三民主義).[1] It was a mandatory subject and part of the standard college entrance exam. However, the subject itself didn’t require much explanation. So, in addition to the textbook, we were assigned extra reading materials—nothing directly linked to government or citizenship.
We were introduced to literature by contemporary authors. We read 台北人 (Taipei People), stories about transplanted mainlanders in Taipei.[2] Then we read 王謝堂前的燕子 (Swallows in Front of Great Halls of Aristocrats), literary analysis of Taipei People with detailed discussions on the mentality of its characters. [3] It was my first experience reading literary analysis and critics.
We read books by Taiwanese writers newly came on the scene. They wrote with vernacular idioms, dealing with lives of common folks—often bittersweet. We also read essays on political movements in Hong Kong. . .
At the end of the semester, our final assignment was to write an easy entitled: “One Bloodline, Four Mindsets.” We were to discuss how geological and political conditions led to different life styles and mentalities among Chinese people in Mainland China, Taiwan, Hong Kong and, overseas, in America. The stories in Taipei People reminded me of my relatives on my father’s side. I could also relate to the writings by Taiwanese authors because of mom’s background. My young life reflected the conflicts and convergence of different ideas. I wrote my essay with passion and was asked to read it to the entire class.
Halfway through the second semester, I suddenly grew tired of studying and everything associated with it. Was it the accumulation of all my teenage melancholy? Was it that my little brain, overloaded with information, simply was crying out for help? To this day, I still cannot explain.
One day I walked into the office of Chinese teachers, who I trusted most, and “announced” that I wanted to go home. It took them collectively a few moments to realize that I was actually saying, “I want to drop out of school.” They calmed me down. I agreed to first take a few days off. A few teachers went ahead to talk to my parents. Ms. Peng took me home later that day.
Having no real plan for the future, after hanging out at home for a few days, I returned to school the following week feeling indifferent about everything. Perhaps more shocked than I was, my classmates tiptoed around me, nice but careful. There was a deafening silence between me and the class.
In our next class with Ms. Peng, she asked me to talk to my classmates, explaining why I, an honor student and editor of school journals, suddenly want to quit. She wanted to know if there were things that I wanted my friends to know. I don’t remember any details of the communications. I can, however, still feel the tension in the classroom. I never felt that vulnerable before. But, perhaps, honesty and sincerity did help me get back on track gradually
Ms. Peng lived not far from my flute teacher’s house. Some weekends during my senior year, I would drop by after my flute lessons. She was pregnant with her son. We discussed my preparations for college exams. We talked about current events. The conversations were always casual but meaningful.
For several years, she lived in the States with her young family while her husband pursued graduate studies. Working as an editor for a Chinese newspaper, she learned the history and influence of Women’s Rights Movement in America. After returning to Taiwan, she devoted her time and energy to advance gender equality and protections for women. I last saw her during a summer visit in late 1980s. She seemed to be pleased with my choices of pursuing further studies and my attitude toward life in general.
Between 1993 and 1994, she studied at SUNY—Albany. In 1995 she joined the Democratic Progressive Party and became the director of DPP’s Women’s Affairs Department. On November 30th, 1996, the eve of DPP’s convention in Kaohsiung (高雄), she boarded a taxi after some meetings but never made it back to her hotel. Three days later, my friend called with the news of her murder.
The shock of the news numbed me. The sadness that I felt at that moment never left me. In her honor, I hope to always stay firm to my idea and never give up my search for truth and knowledge.
[1]Three Principles of the People is a governmental philosophy cultivated by Sun Yat-sen: Three Principles of the People: Wikipedia
[2] Taipei People by 白先勇Pai Hsien-Yung is one of the most influential works in twentieth-century Chinese literature: Taipei_People: Wikipedia. A bilingual version, published by Chinese University Press, is available in paperback.
[3] The title 王謝堂前的燕子 was derived from a poem 烏衣巷 (Black Robe Lane) of Tang Dynasty:
朱雀橋邊野草花,
烏衣巷口夕陽斜。
舊時王謝堂前燕，
飛入尋常百姓家。
Wild weeds and flowers overrun the edge of Red Finch Bridge,
Evening sun inclines at the end of Black Robe Lane,
Swallows that used to reside in the great halls of Wang and Xie families,
Now fly into houses of common people.
王導 Wang Dao (A.D. 276-339) and 謝安 Xie An (A.D. 320-385) were statesmen of 晉 Jin Dynasty. Their families as well as many other powerful people resided near and around Black Robe Lane, named after the clothing of officials and soldiers frequented the neighborhood. 歐陽子 Ouyan Tzu, the author of 王謝堂前的燕子, equated the characters in Taipei People with descendants of powerful family in the history.
