It costs US$30 a semester to send a child to a public primary school in Taiwan. Would anyone consider paying US$4,600 instead? Yes, if they thought it was important enough to give their kids an educational environment that emphasizes intellectual independence, critical thinking, and creativity.
Up to four years ago, parents in greater Taipei had to look overseas if they wanted their children to attend an elementary school that rigorously encouraged independent thinking, discussion skills, and self-discovery. The size of public school classes, especially in metropolitan areas, rarely dipped below forty and often exceeded fifty, severely minimizing the interaction between teachers and students.
But sending children abroad involved tough choices, including separating them from parental supervision and support, and perhaps breaking foreign residency laws. Yet by the early 1990s, thousands of local children were studying abroad, mostly in the United States and Canada. Often called “parachute kids,” these students were dropped overseas to attend school while living with relatives or friends. The longer they stayed, however, the more difficult it was for them to return home because they did not hold a valid passport and had usually lost their fluency in Chinese, making it exceptionally difficult for them to reenter the local public school system.
Instead of sending their children abroad, some parents opted to enroll their kids in private foreign schools in Taipei or Kaohsiung, but the choices were almost as difficult. The schools were expensive and most required a foreign passport. It also meant subjecting their children to instruction in a non-Chinese medium, hurting their chances to compete successfully in the islandwide entrance exams for high school and college.
Only recently have parents had the opportunity to select a local alternative for Chinese-language instruction outside the public school system. Four years ago, the Forest Elementary School in the eastern suburb of Hsichih became the first school in greater Taipei to experiment with the more flexible approaches to education already followed in many North American and European classrooms. And early this year, the privately funded Caterpillar Elementary School in the southern Taipei suburb of Hsintien also started offering classes, providing a second choice outside the system.
Public schools are regulation and rule heavy. At Forest, the kids don't have to wear school uniforms, and they can even keep pets.
The two schools were set up by parents and educators, including university professors, who were interested in seeing how local children would respond to more personalized and creative instruction in a setting characterized by supportiveness instead of pressure. The two are similar in several ways. They have few students – a total of fifty-six at Forest and thirty-two at Caterpillar – and their small class sizes mean that the teachers can give levels of personal attention to each student that public school kids could never dream of enjoying. But they are expensive. One semester at Caterpillar costs US$1,200. Tuition at Forest, which includes room and board, is US$4,600 per semester, giving rise to criticism from some people that it is “aristocratic.”
But the first impression when visiting both campuses is that they are anything but aristocratic. The Forest School occupies a row of rather crude and shabby classroom buildings taken over from an abandoned public school. But the campus is dominated by four huge banyan trees, which give the school its name and help compensate for the dilapidated structures. The trees shade most of the playground, and the teachers sometimes hold classes, which meet Monday through Friday from 8:00 to 3:30, under the broad umbrella of deep green foliage. The trees are also a natural jungle gym, and when the weather cooperates, the students and staff have their meals outside as well. One third-grader is quick to point out the advantages of the trees. “For me, the best part of Forest is I can talk and play with my friends up in the trees,” she says.
Because the drive from Taipei to the somewhat remote campus is a time-consuming, traffic-filled nightmare, students board at the school Monday through Thursday nights, spending only the weekend with their families. Teachers take turns staying on campus to supervise the kids in the late afternoons and evenings. The kitchen facilities and the boys' and girls' dormitories are adequate, but certainly not posh.
The drive to the Caterpillar School also requires a lengthy struggle through heavy traffic. To keep parents and kids from being forced to get up too early, the school day starts later, running from 10:00 to 3:30. All the classrooms are in a single warehouse-like structure, and most of the equipment and educational materials are secondhand items donated by parents. With no air conditioners, the place often heats up under the midday sun. But the kids have a great way to cool off at noon and after class. They troop off with a few teachers and parents to a nearby shallow stream to wade and play games. During the first semester of the school's existence, parents were expected to volunteer four hours per week. This has proved difficult, however, and Caterpillar will have three additional teachers and two more staff members on campus for the fall semester.
Both schools have attracted considerable public attention, in part an indication of widespread public dissatisfaction with the public school system, and in part because they are illustrating the truth of the old adage that teaching, not facilities, can make the biggest difference in educational quality. With the recent movement to reform Taiwan's educational system, the experimental approaches used at these schools have also helped give greater focus to high-visibility issues in the public schools such as overcrowded classrooms, inflexible curricula, and outdated textbooks.
School facilities, of course, can make a difference – and it can be a negative one, especially when looking at metropolitan public schools. Although these are generally not noted for their luxurious facilities, parents are more concerned about overcrowding. Most schools have small, densely populated campuses. In Taipei city, 259,000 elementary school students are divided among 146 schools; in Taipei county, 351,000 are distributed among 199. The average is roughly 1,800 kids per school, but some have up to 5,000 students.
The crush of kids can be overwhelming, and there is little relief from the elbow-to-elbow existence in class or on the playground. All classes are held inside because there is no extra space outside. Play areas are usually reserved for scheduled physical education classes, with six to seven classes vying for space. And the campus may have some trees, but they are “rare species” needing protection, definitely not the climbing type.
Early training in practical affairs – A parent volunteer helps a young student sign a “contract” before he sets up a food booth at a Caterpillar graduation.
Although Forest and Caterpiliar completely avoid the student density problem. they are attracting attention primarily because of their educational philosophy. The teachers at both are experimenting with methods that differ in substantial ways from what is found in the public schools. Their overall educational goal is to teach students how to teach themselves by giving them enough guidance and training to develop an interest in self-directed learning.
“We don't want our children to learn under pressure – we hope they can enjoy the pleasures of learning,” says Lee Ya-ching (李雅卿), a parent and also a teacher at Caterpillar. At first, Lee explains, quite a few students have trouble making the adjustment to the school's relaxed environment. Some even refuse to attend class when they first arrive because they think they are free to do whatever they want. Others have lost interest in studying because of negative experiences in public school. “We try all sorts of methods to lead them back to the road of learning,” Lee says. “We understand that they need time to regain interest in school.”
In stark contrast, many public school students are turned off by the unrelenting emphasis on memorization and repetitious exercises. Also, less provision is made for students at the extremes – either fast or slow learners. The former get bored and the latter fall irretrievably behind. Math is a typical example. Students can easily lose confidence. “If children at Caterpillar are slow in mathematics, we won't push them,” Lee says. “We just give them more time and more chances to learn. We try all sorts of methods to build their interest in math. We don't pressure them, but if they make any progress, we never hesitate to praise them.”
Shih Ying (史英), one of the founders of Forest School and an associate professor of mathematics at National Taiwan University, points out that Forest teachers have to be creative because they have fewer facilities at their disposal. “Our hardware is inferior to what is found in many public schools,” he says. “We only have two computers, basic audiovisual and laboratory facilities, and minimal sports equipment. But we make full use of the resources available in the community.”
Caterpillar only uses part of the large warehouse – like building that houses its campus. Because of the midday heat under the atrium roof, most students opt for the nearby stream instead of the swimming pool.
The teachers are rising to the challenge. And class size, of course, gives them even more flexibility because they are not limited to giving lectures. In Forest, the average class has nine students. At Caterpillar, the thirty students are divided into three learning groups. Teachers can therefore concentrate on judging the ability and needs of each student, and the kids are respected and encouraged by adjusting the teaching methods and pace to what is most suitable to them. Group discussions, individual oral reports, and wide-ranging discussions are common. Students also get close personal direction during field trips and in such skills as learning how to use a library. Classes can be inside, under campus trees, in a nearby swimming pool, at a museum, or even in a remote village.
Last year, all fifty-six students at Forest took a one-week trip to Orchid Island, off the southeastern coast of Taiwan, to study the life and culture of the indigenous people there. “I like the school's teaching method because it gives children the space to think more and think deeply,” says Lin Hui-ying (林蕙英), mother of a Forest student.
A Caterpillar Chinese class provides another example of how the personalized approach pays off. The homework for fifth-grade students takes several forms, including writing a diary, making a neat copy of several key paragraphs from a novel, or writing down impressions of a story. One student, who decided to copy one Chinese poem a day as part of his assignment, illustrates the success of this flexible approach. “One day, he started writing his own poems,” Lee says. “Isn't it wonderful?”
Like the choice of teachers, the selection of textbooks is always an important dimension of education. In Taiwan, public school texts are determined by the Ministry of Education, allowing teachers virtually no flexibility in structuring their courses. Some texts, especially those for Chinese language, have too many chapters for teachers to cover each semester.
Other texts omit important issues, such as environmental problems, or include stereotypes. Since teachers have enough trouble getting their students through the required textbook materials, they do not have time to cover much else.
This problem does not exist at Forest and Caterpillar. Although they use many of the public school textbooks, these materials are a reference, not a straitjacket. At Forest, for example, the classes in math and natural science rely more on the government-mandated textbooks. But the Chinese and social science materials are selected by the teachers themselves. The social science curriculum is bolstered by field trips.
This past semester, one main focus for the third and fourth grade students was an introduction to religion. “After I gave them general information about different religions, I took them to visit several churches and temples,” says Lo Chu-min (羅竹民), curriculum coordinator at Forest. One fourth-grade student recalls the trip with obvious enthusiasm: “We also attended a Taoist festival. It was a city god making an inspection trip, and we were allowed to stay for the whole ceremony!”
Although field trips, small classes, and varied teaching styles and textbooks are common enough in the West, these are still new ideas in Taiwan. The approach requires extra support and understanding from parents. “We respect the children's learning method and pace,” says teacher Lee Ya-ching. “We believe that all the children have their own potential. But without the backup of parents, our success is limited.” Problems do arise. Lee says one ten-year-old boy at Caterpillar is good at organizing extracurricular activities, but his parents don't think this is a good use of his time. They want him to spend more time learning “intellectual information” and doing more homework. “We can see the conflicts in the child, and that's too bad,” she says.
Both schools promote frequent contact between teachers and parents. “I like the school's style of communication,” says Lin Hui-ying. “If I have some concerns about my child, such as needing more discipline, I'll write it down in the liaison notebook or just call. The teachers respond right away.”
“Some parents may at first have some illusions about this open, active teaching style,” says Tang Kuang-hua (唐光華), father of a Caterpillar student. “They think their children will immediately become perfect-smart, polite, independent, and tolerant. And their kids won't fight and won't say bad words either. Other parents, myself included, tell them if they are patient, their children can make it. They just need time. Education requires patience.”
While parents and administrators at the two schools are pleased with the results of their educational experiment, they are still concerned about finances. Neither school receives government support. At first, costs at Forest were covered half by tuition and half by support from the Humanistic Foundation, a local organization concerned with educational reform. Tuition now covers about three-fourths of the annual budget. “Fortunately, there are still lots of people who support our school and make financial contributions,” Shih Ying says.
Legality is another unsolved problem. The status of both schools is somewhat ambiguous. The Private School Law has strict regulations concerning school budget, size of campus, teacher qualifications, and teaching materials. Neither school meets these requirements. To overcome the problem, both have arranged cooperative relationships with nearby public elementary schools. Officially, Forest is now an experimental project of Hsichih Elementary School. Caterpillar has tied into a nearby public school in a similar way.
Nevertheless, the principal of the Forest School was indicted in May – the indictment claimed the operation of the school was against Article 43 of the Private School Law. This article bans any organization that uses the name of a school to advertise for students unless it has the approval of the local government. The case is still pending, but its seeming capriciousness has attracted additional support for the school. Forest's supporters in educational circles are actively lobbying the Legislature to amend the law because it is out of date and out of touch with the needs of contemporary society. “We hope after the law is revised, parents and children will have more opportunity in choosing the educational system they want,” says Shih Ying, one of Forest's founders.
Some help may also be coming from the Ministry of Education. Responding to discussions and resolutions passed at the Seventh National Conference on Education, a meeting attended by 450 educators and legislators in June, the ministry promised to draw up regulations that would legalize schools that offer alternative curricula and teaching styles. In the meantime, the status of Forest and Caterpillar has become a cause celebre for many people involved in the overall debate on educational reform. As long as both schools hold classes, their teaching methods challenge long-accepted – and long-criticized – approaches in the public school system.