關於 journal of teacher education ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

【澄清唬爆米花教室：被大內宣淹沒的美國總統署名投書】

先說這篇沒有圖，因為太重要不能亂放圖

在歷史上，從沒有美國總統親自投書到中華民國的報紙。但是在109年10月22日，美國總統參選人拜登以「More Prosperous Future For Our Families」(定稿中文標題：為我們家庭更繁榮的未來)，以華人為主體，台灣人為核心訴求，投書聯合報系的世界日報，強調他願意與中國合作而非對抗，鄙棄川普的仇中獵巫，願意與華人聯手，但更重視台灣人的健保經驗，不願台灣人為美國火中取栗而是共同繁榮。

但在一片大奇特的大內宣中，美國總統參選人的投書竟然在台灣地區被忽視。且不說拜登明明在聲譽卓著的 IBD/TIPP民調持續領先，比起川普根本鼓吹台灣人火中取栗(你對抗，我賺軍火，去跟大陸人死嗑來增加我談判勒索本錢)。

拜登不只親自署名投書，還誠懇說明他對台灣/兩岸的四大重點，根本是史上最誠懇與重要的待遇。既然親綠親川普主流媒體不報，那福編來報。

★
一、拜登堅持稱台灣是 leading democracy (領導性的民主政體)，表示其無意支持台獨立場(不稱國家)

二、拜登大篇幅強調川普仇中、卸責不科學的推卸問題給中國，造成亞裔的困擾與災難，而這不是美國總統應為。(打了那些整天喊支那賤畜以為自己就會成為高等美國人的台灣地區背祖中國人的臉)

三、拜登大談健保對一般百姓重要性，表示他珍視台灣的健保經驗，也是未來與台灣的合作重心。

四、與其獵巫與仇中，他更重視與中國的合作，希望聯盟對世界更有幫助(雖然舉例醫療與氣候，但也只是舉例) 表示願意以兩大強權的合作，謀取更多世界利益。

其他我 不多說，請看原文與譯文。

#拜登給中華民國台灣與聯合報系的面子真的太大了
#聯合報系真正展現實力
#美國總統投書首中華民國系報紙
#大內宣只在意把我們當馬前卒的喇叭川普

為我們家庭更繁榮的未來／前副總統喬瑟夫．拜登

時局多艱，我們國家處在十字路口，正面臨疾病大流行、經濟大衰退，和一場將決定我們未來很長一段時間的選舉。

今年 我們看到美國最好的一面

今年，我們看到美國最好的一面引領我們向前：英勇的醫師、護士、日常雜貨商、餐館業主、必要行業工作者 — 而其中，包括許許多多的亞裔美國人。

今年 我們也看到美國最糟情況

但我們也看到最糟的情況：亞裔美國人誤因新冠病毒遭仇視的行為比比皆是，某種程度上，是因為川普總統發布的仇恨言論所致。亞裔美國人被責備、被唾罵、被攻擊；家園、商家和汽車被侮辱性標記破壞；年幼的孩童被刺傷，還有一名89歲的奶奶，在不斷升級的仇恨文化中遭人火焚。

這不該是我們原本的樣子。

亞裔美國人 使我們國家變強大

近兩個世紀以來，亞裔美國人使我們的國家變得強大 — 從掘金礦工，到加速我們崛起的鐵路和工廠工人，再到推動我們向前邁進的科學家、建築師、藝術家和企業家們。多年來，他們的勇氣、犧牲和成功，為美國夢注入動力，也讓美國穩為自由的燈塔與世界的希望。

川普卻不懂 傷了移民國價值觀

川普總統不懂這些。他帶頭攻擊我們作為移民之國的價值觀，甚至在我們的邊境，拆散成千上萬的孩童與父母。即便在這場大流行到來之前，我們的仇恨犯罪就已達到16年以來的新高。而如今，為了轉移自己抗疫失敗、未能保護我們國家的過失，無論是否因此導致上千反亞裔的種族歧視事件，他仍堅持把新冠病毒稱作「中國病毒」。

作為總統 我捍衛每人的美國夢

措辭很重要，總統措辭更為重要。作為總統，我將捍衛每個人的美國夢，讓每一勤奮努力的家庭，享有通向繁榮和美好未來的公平機會。我將反對任何形式的種族歧視，指示司法部優先處理仇恨犯罪，以彌合仇恨與分裂的傷口，而非煽風點火。

川普失敗 他讓我們的經濟崩盤

唐納德·川普早在今年1月就已知道新冠病毒的致命性，卻未採取任何行動。現在，超過22萬美國人因此失去生命，約3000萬人失去工作、工時和薪水，五分之一的小商家關門。川普失敗的領導力讓我們的經濟崩盤 — 他總統當得愈久，得以完全回歸正軌的時間也愈久。

我會控制疫情 讓我們重回生機

八個月過去了，川普仍然沒有(抗疫)計畫。而我有。

首先要擔起責任，努力控制疫情，讓我們重回生機。我將執行早在3月就擬定的計畫，擊敗新冠病毒。我將聽取科學家、專家的意見；保護我們的家庭；讓新冠檢測、治療， #以及最終的疫苗免費，並對所有人開放。

我會重建經濟 實質救助小商家

我將馬上開始重建更好的經濟，為數百萬遭受重創的小商家提供實質救助。他們是我們社區的生命線 — 但川普腐敗的復甦作法棄他們於不顧，只把紓困資金匯集到大公司手中。75%的亞裔小企業主，未能獲得任何首輪紓困金。這是錯誤的，我已要求確保員工在50人以下的小企業獲得紓困金，我也將增加他們獲得優惠和資金的長遠渠道，減輕阻礙移民業主的語言障礙。

我不會對年收40萬元以下者加稅

質言之，我的經濟復甦計畫將回報以工作，而不只是財富，將創造未來數百萬優薪工作。(信評機構)穆迪的獨立經濟學者發現，比起川普總統的作法，我的計畫會創造多出700萬的工作，以及超過1兆元的經濟增長。我也不會對任何年收入40萬元以下者加稅 —別懷疑。相反地，我還將確保超級富豪和大公司最終支付本應承擔的份額。

讓父母能付學費 讓醫保更平價

我一路走來，都在為工薪和中產家庭而戰；他們之中有許多勤勉奮鬥的移民，來到美國是為更好的生活。我將幫助父母有能力支付子女的優質教育、提高教師薪酬，並讓絕大多數家庭免費就讀公立學院。我將讓照顧年邁父母變得更容易，讓醫療保險更平價。川普現在要通過法院，廢除「可負擔健保法」，在一場致命大流行之中，剝奪數千萬人的醫療保險，這毫無道理。

與盟友並肩 深化與台灣的關係

同時，新冠病毒證明美國不能自外於世界。從重建我們最親近夥伴的關係開始，我們必須與其他國家攜手合作，應對影響我們所有人的國際挑戰。我們是一個太平洋強國，將與盟友並肩，增進我們在亞太地區共享的繁榮、安全與價值。這其中就包括深化與台灣這個居領先地位的民主政體、主要經濟體，以及科技重鎮的關係。台灣也是開放社會可以有效控制新冠病毒的閃亮典範。

更新領導力 符合美利益與中合作

我們應對中國的方式，會聚焦增強美國競爭力，再興國內優勢，並更新我們在海外的聯盟與領導力。我們將在符合美國利益的領域與中國合作，包括公共衛生和氣候變遷。

讓家庭團聚 修復破碎的移民系統

美國向來不只靠強大的國力，而是用身為榜樣的實力領導世界。要切實重現此景，我們也必須修復破碎的移民系統，讓家庭團聚，確保美國繼續吸引全球最出色與最聰明的人。

我將會傾聽 重塑我們熱愛的國魂

我競選是為讓美國更好的重建，重建美國作為一個充滿機會，團結和有全新開始的國家；一個由數代移民讓其強大的地方；一個所有人都能發聲、每張選票都有價值的地方。我將引領這些議題，更重要的是，我會傾聽。所以，請確保你今天將選票投出。

讓我們一起，重塑我們熱愛的國魂。

(世界日報華盛頓記者羅曉媛／譯)

More Prosperous Future For Our Families
by Former Vice President Joseph Biden for World Journal

These are tough times. Our country is at a crossroads, facing a pandemic, a recession, and an election that will decide our futures for a very long time.

This year, we've seen the best of America carry us forward: heroic doctors, nurses, grocers, restaurant owners, essential workers–including so many Asian Americans.

But we've also seen the worst: acts of hate against Asian Americans wrongly blamed for COVID-19, spurred on, in part, by hateful rhetoric from President Trump. They've been screamed at, spit on, and assaulted. Homes, businesses, and cars vandalized with slurs. Small children stabbed. An 89-year-old grandmother set on fire amid this rising culture of hate.

This is not who we are.

For nearly two centuries, Asian Americans have made our country strong–from the gold miners and railroad and factory workers who helped to power our rise; to the scientists, architects, artists, and entrepreneurs who are helping to drive us forward now. For years, their courage, sacrifices, and success have powered the American Dream and helped America stand as a beacon of freedom and hope to the world.

President Trump doesn't get that. He has led an assault on our values as a nation of immigrants, even tearing thousands of children from their parents' arms at our border. Hate crimes against people are at a 16-year-high, even before this pandemic. And now, to deflect blame for his failure to protect our nation from this crisis, he insists on calling COVID-19 the "China virus," no matter how many thousands of reported racist incidents against Asian Americans it encourages.

Words matter – and a president's words matter even more. As President, I'll defend the American Dream for everyone, so every hardworking family has the same fair shot at prosperity and a better future. I'll stand against racism in every form, directing the Justice Department to prioritize hate crimes, and working to heal the wounds of hatred and division, not fan the flames.

Donald Trump knew how deadly COVID-19 was back in January and did nothing to stop it. Now, more than 220,000 Americans are dead. Some 30 million have lost jobs, hours, wages. One in five small businesses have shut down. Trump's failed leadership has tanked our economy – and the longer he's president, the longer it'll take to get it fully up and running again.

We're eight months in, but Trump still has no plan. I do.

It starts with taking responsibility and doing the hard work to control this pandemic and get our lives back. I'll implement the plan I've laid out since March to beat COVID-19. I'll listen to scientists and experts; protect our families; and make testing, treatment, and any eventual vaccine free and available to everyone.

I'll get right to work building our economy back better – getting real relief out to millions of hard-hit small businesses. They're the lifeblood of our communities – but Trump's corrupt recovery passed them by, funneling funds to big corporations instead. Some 75% of Asian-owned small businesses weren't expected to get any first-round stimulus funds at all. It's wrong. I've called for ensuring small businesses with less than 50 employees get new relief funds. And I'll boost their long-term access to credit and capital, and work to ease the language barriers that can hold back immigrant entrepreneurs.

Through it all, my economic recovery plan will reward work, not just wealth, creating millions of good paying jobs of the future. Independent economists at Moody's found that my plan creates 7 million more jobs – and $1 trillion more in economic growth – than President Trump's would. And I won't raise taxes on anyone earning less than $400,000 a year – period. Instead, I'll make sure the super wealthy and big corporations finally pay their fair share.

I've fought my whole career for working and middle class families – so many of them hard-working immigrants who came to America in search of a better life. I'll help parents afford a quality education for their kids, boosting teacher pay and making public college free for most families. I'll make it easier to care for aging parents, and make health care more affordable. Trump is in court right now trying to repeal the Affordable Care Act, stripping tens of millions of people of health coverage in the middle of a deadly pandemic. It makes no sense.

Meanwhile, COVID-19 is proof that the United States can't isolate itself from the world. We have to work with other nations to meet global challenges that impact us all, starting by rebuilding our relationships with our closest partners. We're a Pacific power, and we'll stand with friends and allies to advance our shared prosperity, security, and values in the Asia-Pacific region. That includes deepening our ties with Taiwan, a leading democracy, major economy, technology powerhouse – and a shining example of how an open society can effectively contain COVID-19. And our approach to China will focus on boosting American competitiveness, revitalizing our strengths at home, and renewing our alliances and leadership abroad. We'll work to collaborate with China when it's in our interest, including on public health and climate change.

America has always led the world not only with the example of our power, but the power of our example. To truly do that again, we also have to fix our broken immigration system, keeping families together and ensuring the United States continues to draw the world's best and brightest.

I'm running to build America back better, as a country of opportunity, unity, and new beginnings. A place made strong by generations of immigrants. A place where everyone has a voice and every vote counts. I'll lead on these issues, and more importantly, I'll listen. So please make sure you get your vote in today. Together we'll restore the soul of this nation we love.

#福編編譯? (編譯個鬼，是世界日報了不起！ 大內宣與遍地綠媒鬼遮眼)

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

支持者幫忙做的英文簡介，收在部落格"我的故事/Intro"網頁。大家可以幫忙查看有無錯誤。

Hsiaoling Hsiao(蕭曉玲): jobless as the result of being against the power？


The former junior school teacher Hsiaoling,Hsiao got intentionally laid off by the school she worked for only because she accused Longbin Hao, (郝龍斌) the Mayor of Taipei of breaking the law (One-Guideline-One-Text).

Hsiaoling Hsiao(蕭曉玲), was a teacher of junior school in Taiwan till the end of 2007, because of her accusing the Mayor, not only was she laid off by the school, but also was she blacklisted by the Education Ministry of Taiwan that she will not be able to teach in any educational institute national wide. This punishment equals the punishment for those teachers who commit sexual abuse.

Meihui Tseng, (曾美蕙) The principal of the school Ms. Hsiao used to work for, wrote a book and defamed Ms. Hsiao in an article of a book she wrote with others. This book was distributed to many schools national wide, ruined the reputation of Ms. Hsiao totally. No wonder that dozens of NGOs in Taiwan called it as “revival of political persecution”

During the incident procedure, the interference of government can be seen everywhere. The school inspector implied to reactive the lay-off policy on the performance evaluation conference. Protests against her with white cloth strips from the parental association. These organized activities against her was launched and informed via faxes from the Education Bureau.

Tengjiao Lin, (林騰蛟) head of the Taiwan Education Bureau slandered Hsiao at the press conference of “shameless lying and mislead the media”. When asked about when Hsiao was found not qualified, Lin said repeatedly “on November 12th。” exactly the day when she accused the Mayor!

According to the school, Hsiao got laid off because of scrimshank to the work. The evidence backing up the accusation is more than ridiculous – a photo of a watch is said to be the evidence of late for work; a photo with Hsiao holding the telephone for business use at school was accused of using mobile phone during class; a falsified journal showing the date November 31st – a date never exists, and other similar non-existing evidence. Also falsified testimony from the students saying she showed entertaining film in class instead of teaching according to the schedule, talking about political sensitive topics. (One-Guideline-One-Text)

The punishment to Hsiao works now as a warning to others, aroused the anxiety and fear of many other teachers. Till today, the injustice treatment to Hsiao is still remaining. “All what we can do now is wishing her all the best” says the National Federation of Teachers Union.

Hsiao eventually sacrificed for this case, it led to following bad consequence –tens of thousands of NTP spent in vain，thousands students’ right offended.


For more information, please go to Ms. Hsiao’s blog, address as below
http://iamhsiao.blogspot.com/