鞠躬盡瘁 THE UTMOST EFFORTS
I'm not entirely sure what it is that keeps me so determined to complete every journey I begin.
This summer, I am scheduled to undertake three international service-related journeys.
For the first one, I chose to travel alone.
There was only one reason: I needed to conduct field observations, much as I have done in years past.
What I never expected was that, within only a few days, I would find myself engaged in long conversations with several people from different countries almost every single day.
To my surprise, the local people also welcomed me warmly. They even kindly took me to visit an Indigenous community, where the photographs accompanying this post were taken. Their generosity allowed me to experience a part of the region that I could never have discovered on my own.
Another purpose of this journey had been to learn more about migrant workers.
There, too, I encountered something profoundly moving.
At the place where I am currently staying, I met a woman from the mountainous regions of Myanmar.
The encounter almost brought me to tears.
She speaks almost no English.
Yet she had travelled such a great distance to work in a foreign country.
We could hardly communicate with words.
Later, when I was alone and my emotions finally overwhelmed me, my thoughts returned to another time—to those early days when we served in a small village in Myanmar.
The villagers and children we met back then must now be husbands and wives, mothers and fathers.
I remembered that, when we first met them, many knew no English at all. Communication was almost impossible.
Yet, little by little, they learned enough to hold simple conversations, opening doors that had previously seemed beyond reach and expanding the possibilities of their futures.
That is why I know my journeys will not stop.
Nor do I wish them to.
It is not reckless courage, nor the belief that I am invincible.
Each departure comes only after careful thought.
No journey has ever been easy.
Every journey brings its own hardships.
Yet what continues to move me most is something remarkably simple:
That I was born a woman...
and that this life has allowed me to live in such a way.
I still consider myself extraordinarily wealthy.
But this wealth has never been measured in money or possessions.
The overwhelming sense of abundance I feel today was built upon the very hardships that once seemed almost impossible to bear.
So even when this present moment becomes difficult...
what is there left for me to complain about?
I simply keep walking.
Because somewhere ahead,
there will always be another path, even when there is no one that I previously know.Here's a version that keeps your reflective voice while reading naturally in English. I've also woven in that the photos were taken when local people kindly brought you to visit an Indigenous community.
I'm not entirely sure what it is that keeps me so determined to complete every journey I begin.
This summer, I am scheduled to undertake three international service-related journeys.
For the first one, I chose to travel alone.
There was only one reason: I needed to conduct field observations, much as I have done in years past.
What I never expected was that, within only a few days, I would find myself engaged in long conversations with several people from different countries almost every single day.
To my surprise, the local people also welcomed me warmly. They even kindly took me to visit an Indigenous community, where the photographs accompanying this post were taken. Their generosity allowed me to experience a part of the region that I could never have discovered on my own.
Another purpose of this journey had been to learn more about migrant workers.
There, too, I encountered something profoundly moving.
At the place where I am currently staying, I met a woman from the mountainous regions of Myanmar.
The encounter almost brought me to tears.
She speaks almost no English.
Yet she had travelled such a great distance to work in a foreign country.
We could hardly communicate with words.
Later, when I was alone and my emotions finally overwhelmed me, my thoughts returned to another time—to those early days when we served in a small village in Myanmar.
The villagers and children we met back then must now be husbands and wives, mothers and fathers.
I remembered that, when we first met them, many knew no English at all. Communication was almost impossible.
Yet, little by little, they learned enough to hold simple conversations, opening doors that had previously seemed beyond reach and expanding the possibilities of their futures.
That is why I know my journeys will not stop.
Nor do I wish them to.
It is not reckless courage, nor the belief that I am invincible.
Each departure comes only after careful thought.
No journey has ever been easy.
Every journey brings its own hardships.
Yet what continues to move me most is something remarkably simple:
That I was born a woman...
and that this life has allowed me to live in such a way.
I still consider myself extraordinarily wealthy.
But this wealth has never been measured in money or possessions.
The overwhelming sense of abundance I feel today was built upon the very hardships that once seemed almost impossible to bear.
So even when this present moment becomes difficult...
what is there left for me to complain about?
I simply keep walking.
Because somewhere ahead,
there will always be another path even when there's not a single person whom I previously know,
thanks to all those wonderful individuals who have assisted me along the journey of mine.
曾有一段時間，人們以為我需要一輛更好的車。人們的善意，我一直心知肚明。
有人甚至慷慨地提出願意提供更體面的車輛，分文不取。他們相信，一部更新穎的車款，能讓旅程更輕鬆，也或許更符合世俗眼中的，一位如我這樣的人士的「得體與否」。
我每一次都心懷感謝。接著，我仍然安靜地駕駛著其他的車，而非那些體面的車款，這並非因為我不欣賞機械製工的美好，甚至可能恰恰相反，尤其在一些特殊狀況下，當我應邀成為駕駛名車的人選、又或坐在名車之中成為乘客時，更或者曾經在我以為人生將進入另一段篇章之時，我也擁有過一輛可愛的小小名車，每一次坐進駕駛座，我都能理解為何人們讚賞其作工，這是由於順暢，本身就或者就是機械在某種與道路溝通方式上的，默許和靜語。
後來因為接下了國外的工作機會，使我必須賣掉那台小小名車，那並非是我不再欣賞那台車所帶來的附加價值，只是生命的不同階段，有必須面對的不同狀態。
多年後順利結束國外工作而回到台灣，另一段故事悄然展開。一位朋友有台老舊的國產車，這位朋友明白我可能只需要短期用車，於是，我並未真正正式購買新車，而是交給對方一個象徵性的紅包。
那絕非某種交易。
而是一種默契——我們延續了一段仍然願意上路服務的機件的生命長度。
這輛極其高齡的國產生至今竟然已陪伴我超過三年時間，而我最近才意識到，它可能在我有在台因種種緣由，而已工作達到「超出預期」的長度，而即將走向另一個階段：
透過良善而充滿愛心的前輩安排，專業相關人員在我人處於海外時，進行了完整的檢修作業，目前預估維修成本大約台幣十萬上下，而這，早已遠遠超出當時取得這台車所付出的那個紅包的代價。
在純粹經濟理性中，這顯然不再「划算」，然而對我而言的生命曲線，向來比較不是由效率、營收、投報率而構成。但不論如何從安全方面進行考量，我必須作好心理準備，好好向這位同行者告別。
為何稱之為「同行者」？
因為它並非僅是一部交通工具，而是在我未曾預期的旅程中，默默承載了許多片段。
我原本未曾預料，自己在台灣的工作會延伸至數年之譜，也未曾預料自己仍會在所接觸的諸多範疇中，持續選項在公立學校場景的選項，基於這個選擇，我有了諸多轉折、學習、體認的空間，會看見有特殊教育需求的學生，與其他一般學生共處，於是從我過去在第一時間拿到正式的國民教育教師資格、在公立學校任教、爾後有其他生命歷程進入我的生命、再回到公立學校教學現場，不但教過了市區中的公立學校教師英語，不但教過了初始成為正式教師的我不會被指定的小學低年級學生，因為在那個時侯沒有所謂的低年級英語學習課程、沒有所謂的低年級雙語教育課程，於是透過這些公立學校的場景，我持續學習著、打破著自己原本的框架與可能，突破自己的心防，更進一步親身經歷更為不同的生命在同一空間中學習的實況：
在我於其他地方努力的時候，台灣的公立教育大環境也運行了另一個決策，是過去的我所沒有經歷、但現在的我必須學習而經歷的，那就是「將身心障礙特殊生融入一般教學環境，一起學習」。
透過這樣的教育政策，我看見的是陪同特殊生上課的優秀教育人士、試圖不斷將學生融入在課室間的種種不同教師，大家的努力及辛勞，有目共睹。這些經驗教導我的是更加謙和看待更多人、事、物，而這些經驗，回應我在初始有意願再度投身至國民教育的初始階段的信念：使我能更好的在國際社會間，進行深度服務的行腳。
這又再開啟另一段無限延伸的過程，包括學生們更加在大量不同年級而與我相處的情況下，更享受與我在課室中互動的景況，以及在我們由於義務、利他、服務學習相隨的溫暖分享聚會裡面，那一些關於信任、善意、合作，以及共同服務他人的交流聚會，我們開始第一次納入擁有成年特殊需求子女的家庭，一起溫馨參與我們的活動。而很少有人能夠相信，只是這樣的一場聚會，又引發出多大的火花，使我個人在於公於私、於國內於海外，擁有多少動能。
也許在很多人眼中的一部車，是種代步工具，可是對我這樣的人來說，從台灣到海外、從海外回台灣、從台灣的至北點到其他任何縣市，都有不一樣的意義，就算是在海外「發生事情」，並且，那樣的事情與「住房」項目有關，而讓我想到那台車也常常是我由於避免通勤之苦，而小憩片刻的選項……所以我的車，也就逐漸成為一個我自己在服務行腳的過程中，悄然無聲的一個端點。
一台二十年的國產車?!
許多人聽見「已經二十年」這樣的描述，頭一個反應是「立馬汰換」。
而我聽見的，卻是它所經歷的一切。
它見証過多少孩子曾在其中被接送、多少對話曾在途中發生、多少平凡日常，曾未被注意卻真實存在等等等等。
或許物件的記憶方式，與人類不同。偶爾，我也會想到另一輛小小名車。若說完全沒有念想於另一部雷同等級的新型車款，那並不誠實。但另一個問題，總會先一步出現：
是否在某個地方，還有另一個人或者家庭，正準備更換另一部仍可使用的舊車？那樣一台曾經承載歲月的車，又在其機件中，有著怎樣的記憶?
對我這樣的人來說，或許每件事情都不會是結束，而是念想運用及使用方式的轉換，以此例而言，便是一台車這樣的工具帶來的附加價值，一如在前往國外時，我會喜歡扛著一些「物資」前往，「物資」不是某種施捨，也不是某種捐獻，因為在我長期進行深度服務之後，於我個人的字彙當中，這些名為「施捨」或者「捐獻」的文字和口條，或者都直接間間代表著「社會地位的上對下」、「經濟條件的富對貧」……
也許我是過於挑剔，但我倒是認為扛到當地的物資，就是「分享」，是「饋贈」，即使已經是舊的物品，例如一件已經穿舊了的女性內衣，但是在沒有見過內衣的深山裡面的女學生眼中，便是千金難買的真情，是她們一輩子會謹記在心的分享，是她們在我們離開始忍不住大人、小孩通通潸然淚下的觸動。也許有人會說出這樣的、我一直以來不斷聽到的話語：
「你們到當地去一下下，綁架了他們的情緒，給他們一時之間的溫暖就離開，這件事妥適嗎?」
但我會這樣說：
「當我們在英語教室裡面，當一個如泡芙老師這樣的人，突然放起了一個他人在當時，爭相希望拍攝的遠地服務的鏡頭，裡面所呈現的是異國風情，是一種不同於一般影片的畫面，是一種讓一班又一班在對岸、在台灣各處，都讓學生立馬安靜下來的故事，裡面講到泡芙老師的歷程，裡面甚至有她父母的談話鏡頭時，學生們也只有看了幾十分鐘，但是，裡面竟然有學生開始說，我也要像老師一樣，做一個有用的人、把英語學好、幫助很多其他不同地方的人，而這樣的學生年級可以小到只有六、七歲的時候，我們可以說這是一時之間的情緒綁架，迷幻了這些未成年者，老師不教他們之後，他們就無所歸依嗎?」
當然不會。這是由於他們都會遇到別的人、事、物，裡面有好有壞，有悲有喜，可是，在記憶裡面，他們永遠會記得曾有位老師是如此這般，曾有人可以給人這樣的感動，於是，他們也可以想方設法如此這般，他們更可以發展潛力而給人更加非比尋常的感動。常常，學生跟我說我帶給了他們永恆的希望，但我認為一個更好的解讀，應該是每個人都有著無限的可能。
對我而言，物資也是，差別只是在於，在國際間行走之時，物資攜帶的方式有哪些，這就非常耐人尋味了-------
要裝在紙箱當中以簡約(對比於行李箱本身吃重的)重量嗎?
要特別大費周章以物流方式運送嗎?
要隨身攜帶嗎?
不論是上面我們所做過的哪一種，不論當時我們所給予的，在未來產生什麼效益或者完全無效，一顆真心永遠無價，是我的信念。
從而我發現自己在生活簡約的過程當中，在選擇使用一台二十年老舊車款的信念背後，減少物質上的增生和挑選，而騰出不少時間與空間來做更多可以讓自己更為精進的事情，例如將房子的空間做為整理物資的廣場，畢竟，裡面沒有裝潢也沒有家俱，例如把一台車當作我的陪同者、開路人，即便已經是二十年壽命的老舊車款。
這時，我才逐漸明白，我自己也是一位特殊生，這不是指，我的一個耳朵聽不見的心智障礙，雖然，我可以放大解釋這件事，而我在這個宇宙及這個世間的特殊生身份，讓我很少詢問：「最新的XXXXXXX型號是哪一款？」
而是更常詢問：「我可以如何調整自己? 我還能使用什麼方式把人們連結在一起？」
這些問題引發人們告訴我：
「這是我們參加過最特別、最溫馨的一場聚會，我們真的太感動了~~~」
這種互動，大略早已悄悄塑造了我所看待的一切：從自己進行回收材料的再創作，到將手藝的工法與東非人士們分享，又或進入正式教室裡的學習氛圍，再到跨文化的交流。甚至一輛歷史悠久的國產車，也正是其中一環。
所有的人、事、物都在在提醒著我：價值不會因為物件的高價或者低價，而頓時出現或者消失。
尊嚴不會。
善意亦然。
我總是記得一位十分出色的機師，在我仍是空姊時，邀請當時我們全體服務於同一架飛機的機組人員一同，在雪梨的一家餐廳用餐，他是一位華人，對比於當時我所服務的公司中的其他外籍機師，他明顯地大方許多，而且，願意擔當那種大家已經下了工、成為一般人的當下，邀請大家一同前往一家餐廳的擔當。當時的我還沒有現在的歷練，不懂得請教這位前輩，是什麼造成了他的氣度和視野，但是當這樣的事情在我的生命歷程裡面層出不窮，發生於我所服務或者經歷的種種場景時，我想，或許文明的進步，不僅在於創造更新的事物，更在我們是否終於學會，看見那些早已靜好存在的價值，不論那樣的價值來自於：
一位身心障礙學生，
一位陪伴這位學生進入一般教室裡面的教育工作夥伴，
一位請所有(動輒十幾二十名)組員在高級餐廳用餐的老練機師，
一位將家裡的用車與我分享的友人，
一種讓溫馨分享聚會無限延伸的念頭。
於是我開始理解，國產車即使老態龍鐘，仍然可以瞬間啟動，不會詢問自己是否時髦。
也許，這正是一種智慧。
也或許，正因如此——
我仍然喜歡轉動那把鑰匙，以及運用一把充滿批判性思考、智慧提問、與溫良美好的鑰匙，可以開啟的，所有極簡生活後的舊物再生的妙「事」橫生。
「老師，我搞不懂為何一定要用紙箱裝物資? 塞進行李箱不就好了?!」
哈，這個問題真的蠻到位的，不過，我們可能忘記一件事，一個行李箱的重量，會吃掉多少物資的重量，所以，即便紙箱不好在大眾運輸系統拉運，我們還是可以想辦法，尤其一個可能僅僅一次性質使用過，但完好如初的紙箱，一如我們自己身邊往往已經超出我們負荷的擁有物，如此之多，但不見得如此必要，與別人分享，尤其千里迢迢把物件帶到別人面前的感動，又怎是言語得以形容。
「老師，妳一定要這麼有強迫症嗎?!」
哈，泡芙老師本來應該就可能有強迫症，這不是大家本來都知道的嗎，有印象嗎?
畢竟，某種程度上，泡芙老師的身心障礙在先進國度中，可是完完全全被認可的喲呵呵呵?!
There was a time when people assumed I needed a better car.
I always understood the kindness behind those assumptions.
Several friends even offered me beautiful vehicles—freely and generously, asking for nothing in return. They believed a newer, more elegant automobile would make my travels easier and perhaps better reflect what society imagined someone in my position ought to drive.
Each time, I thanked them sincerely.
Then I quietly continued driving something else.
Not because I failed to appreciate fine engineering.
Quite the opposite.
There were occasions when I was invited to drive luxury cars. At other times, I found myself seated as a passenger inside automobiles many people dream of owning. Years earlier, before leaving Taiwan to begin what I believed would be a new chapter overseas, I owned a quite nice car with fine branding myself.
It was hardly extravagant.
Yet every time I settled into the driver's seat, I understood why people admired it.
Smoothness is a language.
Sometimes machinery speaks to the road without making a sound.
Eventually I sold it.
Not because I loved it any less.
Life had simply begun asking different questions.
Years later, after completing my work abroad and returning to Taiwan, another story arrived almost unnoticed.
A friend happened to have an ageing locally manufactured vehicle.
Knowing that I would probably need a car for only a limited period, he offered it to me. Rather than purchasing it in any ordinary commercial sense, I handed him a modest red envelope.
Neither of us regarded it as a transaction.
It was an understanding.
Together, we were extending the useful life of something that was still willing to serve.
What neither of us expected was that this elderly little local car would remain my companion for more than three years.
Nor had I imagined that my own work in Taiwan would continue far beyond my original plans.
Recently, while I have been overseas, a respected elder very kindly arranged for experienced mechanics to perform a comprehensive inspection of the vehicle.
Their conclusion surprised no one except perhaps me.
The estimated repairs may approach one hundred thousand New Taiwan dollars—far exceeding what I originally offered inside that small red envelope.
From the perspective of economics alone, the answer seems obvious.
Most people would simply replace the car.
From the perspective of safety, I must also prepare myself to say goodbye.
And so, somewhere overseas, I find myself quietly waving farewell to a companion that entered my life almost by accident.
Why do I call it a companion?
Because it has never been merely transportation.
It carried a chapter of my life that I never expected to write.
When I first returned to Taiwan, I imagined my work there would be temporary.
Instead, one year became several.
Those unexpected years allowed me to continue teaching in Taiwan's public-school system—not because it was my only option, but because it remained a place where I felt I could continue learning myself.
Education, after all, is never a one-way journey.
During those years, Taiwan's classrooms continued changing.
More students with special educational needs were welcomed into mainstream classrooms alongside their classmates.
That was not the educational landscape I had first entered years earlier.
It became one I needed to grow into.
And I am grateful that I did.
Day after day I watched dedicated teachers, teaching assistants, counsellors and support staff working patiently to help every child belong.
Their efforts were often quiet.
Sometimes exhausting.
Frequently invisible.
Yet they reminded me that inclusion is not an educational slogan.
It is thousands of small acts of kindness repeated every single day.
Those classrooms reshaped me.
They made me more humble.
They expanded my understanding of humanity.
They also confirmed something I had long suspected—that my years in Taiwanese education were preparing me for service far beyond Taiwan itself.
That unexpected journey opened another.
Our gatherings—originally centred around goodwill, trust, collaboration and service—gradually welcomed families whose adult children live with special needs.
The conversations became richer.
The laughter became warmer.
The friendships became deeper.
Few people realise how a single afternoon shared around a table can quietly alter the direction of many lives.
I certainly did not.
Yet somehow it did.
And perhaps that is why this old vehicle has never been merely an old Toyota.
It quietly connected one chapter of my life to another.
From classrooms...
to friendships...
to humanitarian journeys...
to countries beyond Taiwan...
to the life I now continue living.
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