The Second Daughter Works Her Way Through University

The third daughter Chun-fang was livelier; in the neighbours’ eyes she was easier to approach.

For senior high she too followed Father Ba’s advice and applied to Kuang Jen High School. Kuang Jen is run by the Sisters of the Immaculate Heart; staff children who meet the hardship criteria are exempt from tuition and pay only board and meals.

Our Laomei Catholic church belongs to the Sisters; besides mission work they run education. Kuang Jen runs from kindergarten through senior high with a high rate of advancement.

After discussion with my husband we accepted Father Ba’s kindness and let the third daughter attend Kuang Jen.

At that time the second daughter was in Year Three at Kengsin Nursing School, one year from graduation.

In the third daughter’s final year of senior high the fourth child Guang-de finished junior high; his senior high entrance result, like his eldest brother’s, placed him in Chenggong night division—but if the eldest could pass the college joint exam into a national university, we as parents believed the younger brother would likewise reach a good school.

When the fourth entered senior high, the fifth also left home for the junior section of Catholic Hsu Wei Middle School.

So many children studying at once brought household expenses to the point we could not hold on; scraping from here and there, we only breathed slightly easier after the second daughter graduated from nursing school and began to help.

When the third daughter was nearing the end of senior high I told her: “If you want university, there is only one way—enter night university and work your way through. I am sorry, but I truly cannot afford your tuition.”

The third daughter accepted her lot. Once she passed into night university she quickly found work at cousin Zhong-sheng’s trading company for more than a year. Then a teaching post opened at Laomei Catholic church kindergarten.

The priest knew Chun-fang was lively—since childhood she had placed in singing and dance competitions, liked small children, and was well suited to early education—so he asked her to return as a teacher.

Laomei kindergarten was also my workplace; mother and daughter became colleagues.

In the second semester of her second year at university Chun-fang quit the Taipei trading company and came back to the Catholic kindergarten by the Laomei shore.

Laomei was more than forty kilometres from her classes. She rented a small room in Tamsui; after night classes she took the Zhinan coach back to Tamsui after eleven at night, then caught the six-thirty bus the next morning to reach Laomei kindergarten in time.

Country parents brought children to the kindergarten very early, so teachers had to be there before seven.

At half past four in the afternoon classes ended and she had to hurry for the bus back to Taipei for her own lessons—exhausting.

Once after class in Taipei she took a bus to her Tamsui lodging and fell asleep on board. At the terminus the driver woke her and said: “Miss, this is the last bus—how will you get back?”

She woke terrified, not knowing what to do. After getting off, there was no one in sight.

The Zhinan coach terminus was near what is now Fisherman’s Wharf. In the late 1960s that area was undeveloped and desolate; deep at night not a soul was about.

The third daughter told me this only after she was safe. I was very anxious and kept asking how she had got back to her room in Tamsui.

She said: “I was urgent and frightened, nearly in tears, and had to walk back with my heart in my mouth. Before long I heard a motorcycle behind me. I turned—it was a young man, and I waved.

He stopped and asked what was wrong. Embarrassed, I told him: ‘I overslept on the bus; there is no transport back to Tamsui now—could you give me a lift? I would be very grateful.’

He looked like a conscript on leave, very kind, and agreed at once. I sat on the pillion and got back to my lodging in Tamsui safely.”

She has always been grateful to that kind young man.

Hearing this, as her mother I broke out in a cold sweat—at midnight to meet someone so good was real luck; it seems there are still more good people in the world.

After two years at the kindergarten one day my husband received a special-delivery letter from classmate Mr Wu, urgently telling him: “Our unit has a vacancy now; I hope Chun-fang can come. After she finishes university she can become a permanent staff member; after marriage she can work until retirement at sixty. Such a chance—you must seize it. Decide quickly and reply.”

Reading Mr Wu’s letter we were all touched, knowing he had long cared about our children. The whole family rejoiced for the third daughter.

We replied to Mr Wu and explained to the kindergarten head Mr Zhuang why she was leaving; with his understanding the third daughter left the early-education work she loved most and went to work in Taipei.

That was in her fourth year at university. We thank Mr Wu’s warm help in giving our daughter stable employment.