More than Tens of Thousands Supported the Specialized Two-Year-Old Classes, the Education Groups Objected to the Amendments of Mixing the Two-Year-Olds into the Preschool Classes

This is due to those, WHINY parents who needed to work, who can’t place their not-yet-preschool or kindergarten age children anywhere, and this is still, STUPID, not considering the developmental needs of the child!  The @#$%ED up policy of early childhood education that this government came up with, off of the Front Page Sections, translated…

The Department of Education is planning on opening up the first year of kindergarten for as young as three-year-old, and the early childhood groups started criticizing, suspected that if the government went forth with this policy, then, the two-year-old specialty classes would be totally, screwed up.  The All-Education Foundation gone to protest at the Department of Education, claimed, that within two days’ announcing the policies, there were, more than tens of thousand who’d signed the petitions to support the opening of the two-year-old specialty classes already, against the mixed-age of two year olds into the preschool classes, called out to the Department of Education to stop the amendment from passing.

In actuality, the two-year-old specialized classrooms has a totally different setting compared to the three-year-old only class, for instance, the toilets for the two-year-old classes need to be located in the back of the class, not for the threes.  The teacher-student ratio for the twos is one to eight, for the toddlers of first year kindergarten and up it’s one to fifteen, and there were the owners of the facilities who aren’t opening up the early childhood classes, due to the costs in hiring the extra certified early childhood educators.

The committee member of All Education Foundation of Child Education, Yang stated, that if the children under age three can get mixed into the three-year-old classes, then, does that mean, that five-year-olds are allowed into elementary school to learn.  The Department of Education should NOT open that door of convenience, just because it matched the needs of some of the operators of the early childhood programs.

The Department of Education stated, that this amendment merely allows for the chances of biological three-year-olds to be in the same classroom setting as the three yar old toddlers, that it would NOT be like having kids in various ages in the same classes.  And, if the schools are to have the classes, then, three mandates must be met including, the preschool not having a two-year-old only classes, or if the two-year-old classes are already, filled in enrollment, with the three-year-old classes still having the vacancies, and the toddler must be biologically three year old on the month of registration, then, the toddler can start schooling.

this mixed age group would work

I’m thinking…photo from online, because at least, the‘re, “roughly” the same ages.,,photo from online

And so, just like ALL other policies by the DDP, this is, still giving us the run-around, I mean, what the HELL is being biologically three, three years of age since the day we were born, but, what if, mentally, we’re still not yet, potty trained by then?  And, this mix age class is still just bullshit, I mean, surely, if you mix the four year-olds with the five, six year olds in a class, that would be okay, but, two is still, way too young, when they needed the individual attention, and besides, the teacher-to-student ratios are totally different for these age groups, so, what it adds up is, you’ll be having, 2.5 instructors (that’s still just made up by me!), and, where the HECK you gonna find HALF of a teacher, oh I know, you split the early childhood educators in HALF, then, place one half in the 2.5 teacher classroom, and, leave the remaining HALF of that instructor that’s gotten, hacked down the middle, inside the CLOSETS!

Yeah, that’s too stupid, I mean, if they’re older, sure, it might work, but not at that young and age…

It Was Me, Who Got Shattered, Like You, Had…

It was me, who got, shattered, like you, had, I just, didn’t know it then, but I know it now…

It was me, who got shattered, like you, had, and, you broke into, millions of bits and pieces, and, scattered your broken self, across my mind.  It was me, who got shattered, like you had, I just, didn’t know it then, I didn’t know, that I was, going to be like you, the victim of our, angers.

what became of, her, my porcelain of, long-ago…photo found online (this wasn’t my identical porcelain though…)

It was me, who got shattered, like you, had, and I know it now, and, I’m so sorry, for how you’d, “died” back when I was too young to even realize.  It was me, who got shattered, like you had, only, I shattered inside, while you’d, shattered, on the, out, and, as soon as you hit the marble floor, I knew, it was, too late, to save you.

Oh how I’d, cried, over you (did I now, can’t remember!), you were prettier than my other, porcelain, and, the thoughts of, had I only, thrown HER, instead of you, you would be, “alive” still, crawled into my mind.

But it was, too late, you’d already, “died”, at my childhood, hand, there was nothing I can do, but to, mourn for my loss of you, and of my own self too……………

Little Boy, Broken

Little boy, broken, nobody knew when, or how, he got found that way…

Little boy, broken, nobody can fix him back up, he’d been, injured, in too many places already, and those old wounds, they never, healed back up, at least, not, emotionally or, psychologically, as in, E-V-E-R!

Little boy, broken, there’s nothing we can do about that, he’d heard them saying, and he’d learned, to become, helpless over his situation, and in time, the helplessness became, anger, and he’d, turned his rage toward everybody who’s near him, drove EVERYBODY who actually cared about him, away.

what he, looked, like…

photo from online

Until his all alone, in that, darkness, deep down, inside, that hole inside his own mind.  Stuck in the abyss now, with NO way of getting out.

Little boy broken, picked his pieces up, mixed and matched, to make himself whole again, and yet, the pieces of his own truth went missing, they’d, escaped out of his mind, he’d searched high and low, but still not found.

Little boy broken finally grew up into man, and he’s now, a full grown, broken man, and just like how others had, broken him before, he too will now, break people too.

The Air, My Friend

All our, active, imaginations, getting, SLAUGHTERED, because of the “abundance” of access to high-tech gadgets, with internet access, at the tips of, all of, our, fingers, the column by Jimmi Liao, translated by me…

I’m Not Foolish Enough, to Go up to the Skies to Catch the Stars,

Nor am I, Stupid Enough, to Follow the Clouds Out Adrift,

I Will NOT Head Off to Space to that Exploration that Tires Me Out Completely.

 I Can Say This, Bravely, Loud & Clear:

“So Long as I Get to Stay at Home, Check Things Out Online on My Cell Phone,

I’ll Be, Happy as, a Clam!”

the artwork of Jimmi Liao, courtesy of UDN.com

And this would be, a MAJOR problem, the slaughtering of our, and the next generations’, active imagination, as the high-tech devices are now, taking OVER this god damn world, and, soon enough you will have those, itty, bitty, fetuses inside the wombs with a cell phone (or an iPad!), in those, tiny ten little finger when you go in to get your ultrasound or sonograms, and that’s still, too sad…

What I Couldn’t, Recall, from Before…

What I couldn’t, recall, from before, it all came, flooding back, into my mind, too fast, I can’t, process them, and the dusts never, settled down fully, nothing was, calm, again!

What I couldn’t, recall, from before, why are they, all hitting me hard now?  Why do I need to, remember, all of these things of pain from my younger years, why can’t my mind, just, keep me, deceived, as it’d done before, huh?

difficulties accessing the memories locked inside the brains! Image from online

What I couldn’t, recall, from before, it’d all, come back out, of the darkness of my, unconscious, passing through the grays of the, subconscious, into, the consciousness that’s me!  What I couldn’t, recall, from before, they’re all coming back, one by one, a fact here, a fact there, several on a day, none on the next, too many to cope on the following day after that.

Until, until, everything that’s happened to me in the past, presented themselves, collectively, to me, inside, that, Pandora’s, box………

The Final Trial

Out of a book I’m reading, translated by me…

I would see the mothers and daughter holding intimate conversations from time to time.  They’d treated one another with respect, and as independent from each other, the mother didn’t treat the daughter as something she owned, maintained the distance, at the same time, still were able to, relate to one another intimately.  Every time I see this combination, I’d, felt envious.  To tell the truth, it’s something really nice.  For me though, my relationship with my mother consisted of the never-ending fights, sometimes, we’d, impacted one another hard, sometimes, we’d, ignored each other, and finally, I’m, to where I, currently am.  Back then, I’d wanted to leave home, to get married early, to want another family.  And yet, I’d come to understand, that I will find no place to belong in at a young age, so I’d, forced myself to become, independent.  And, from this perspective, my mother would be, awesome.

So, why did I have such a mother?  About a year ago, this question surfaced to my mind.  Because no matter what, children can’t choose their own parents, and, it’s this sort of a drawing by chance.  If you drew good parents, then, you’re blessed, and if you didn’t, you would be, tortured in life.

As the question started growing inside of my mind, I’d finally decided, to pay a visit to the fortune teller one afternoon.  I only needed to provide my date of birth, my place of birth, and my time of birth, then, the individual will be able to read my life.  I’d, originally, not believed such a thing, but this was, the only straw I can grab onto, to save myself.

Anything, anything at all, I just, needed a reason, for why I was, born to, this woman who was, my mother.

The fortune-teller told me, that I’d owed my mother a favor in a past life.  That’s it, I was, graced by my mother in another life?  And, it was, from a lifetime ago, there’s nothing I can do, and so, I’d, immediately, accepted the claims of that, fortune teller.  And, my mother being my mother, was also something, she’d lacked, control over.

The fortune-teller told me, that facing the trials right now, is the ultimate test of my spirit, if I passed, then, my soul will no longer need to get trapped in the cyclic karma, and I won’t come back as a human being again.

And of course, that was, that, a fortune-telling session, there was no way of me knowing for certain if it is true or false. But for me, even if it’s untrue, it’d helped me find the salvation I needed.  The words of the fortune-teller gave me that heart of ease now, and I can, better accept the problems I have with my own mother.

The most important gain from this session, was I now know, that I’m, tested by God right now, and, if I didn’t visit the fortune-teller as I’d done when I had, I may still be, living in a depressed mood every single day.

As my mother passed, in the current moment, my state of mind felt like that finally solved math problem.  Although, I’d not made the perfect scores still, but, at least, I’d, passed the exams.

And, this just showed, how we’re, often trapped by the whys of life, we want a valid reason, to make sense of why and how things happened the way that they had, and, this woman, she’d found the answer she was in need of (regardless of whether or not it’s true or false), that she’d found closure, to the awful relationship she’d always had with her own mother, and she’s, moving on with the rest of her life, leaving that baggage, behind, for she’d, carried it for too long, all the way up to the point in her life, and now, she’s finally, letting go.

A Part of My Past, that I Just, Don’t Want to, Re-Visit…

“It’s just a part of my past that I just, don’t want to, re-visit again!”

And that was all she, wrote…

But, you can’t help but wonder, what had, happened to her when she was so young, that made her, shut away, all those, memories of old, and, being as young and innocent as you, you kept on, prodding, prodding, prodding her.

Until she had enough of you, badgering her nonstop, and finally, snapped!

what that looked like, for her…

illustration from online

And, you’d come to know, that there’s, that taboo on the past, that you are never supposed to, mention to her about, and, that taboo, it’d, tagged along, as you grow older…

A part of my past, that I just, don’t want to, revisit again, and yet, it kept on, visiting, revisiting me, when I close my eyes at night, I can’t even, ward them off (like evil???), every night as I lay myself down to sleep at night (prayed my soul the lord to keep, yada, yada, yada!), they always, come back, to haunt me.

A part of my past, that I just, don’t’ want to, revisit again, and, despite how I wanted to, leave those memories behind, they can’t stay suppressed forever, even as I’d, worked too hard, casting them out of my mind during the day, there’s no way, of warding them off at night, as they manifest themselves, and became those horrible things that frightened me in my dreams………

That Excellent Catcher

Memories of our own, childhood years, how this young boy, became, a man, the day he stood up, against, his own, father, translated…

Back when he was younger, my father was almost to the point of, abusive, harsh, disciplinarian.  He’d often used physical measure to punish us, the time I remembered the deepest was how I got strung up by the beams of my home, with my hands tied behind my back, and beaten up by him; and sometimes, my mother would be, beaten alongside us too.

And, just like all those, tragedies, with, too many, reasons, too many, excuses, and, with the erosions of decades of time, almost everything had been, forgotten in details; but, the heavy, burdensome fragmented memories would still, surface back up from time to time.  At around ten years of age, when you weren’t as tall as mom, you’d, fearfully stood by her side, watched your father eat his breakfast, as he’d, grilled your mother.  You can’t remember what he was so angry about, just that he’d, picked up an empty bowl, and, thrown it at your mother, who’s no more than three meters away from where he’d sat.

Maybe it was, instincts, reflex, maybe?  You’d, moved your feet, turned to the side, extended your arms, and, everything happened, lightning, fast, like with help from above, you’d, magically, blocked that bowl that came flying toward your own mother; the bowl was like a fly ball, after hitting your arms, rolled on down, a couple of times, and, halted, unbroken, on the, floors.

from being helpless like this…photo from online

You’d not cried out in pain, and was, shocked, and glad, that the bowl didn’t, get, shattered.  Perhaps, your father, in the midst his anger too, was, surprised, couldn’t believe, how the fast ball he’d, thrown, was, caught, by the kid who’d, never, practiced any catching skills, and, gave him an, out!

Afterwards, you’d never asked what was going through your mother’s, mind the.  The awful memories, ought to be, forgotten, just like you’d longed that you could, wanting to know, what you did was right, or was it wrong, in the moment it’d, occurred.

Many years later, you were, married, and your wife told you, that your mother, who wasn’t at all, talkative, had, mentioned it, many times to her in private, almost once every time they saw each other.  And mom was, smiling, with that sense of, comfort, “Ahhhhhhhh, that young boy…was…certainly, an, amazing, catcher all right!”

So, this, is a young boy’s action, to protect his own mother, from his own father’s, abuse, and, it must’ve been, a very, difficult childhood, to grow up in an environment so volatile, when you don’t know when your fathers are going to come home, and blow up at your mothers, and yet, this young boy stood up, and SHOWED his father, put an end to the father’s, hurting his own, mother.

Digging Up Earthworms

Lessons of life, values from these lessons, gained, in the, childhood, years, translated…

My family raised the ducks when I was young, we mixed in the wheat husks, with the leftover porridge to feed to them, chopping up the leafy greens, while the duckweeds we’d scooped from the pond nearby, became, their, snacks, and from time to time, we’d, fed them the earthworms too.  Earthworms were a treasure to the farming families as the ducks ate them, they would grow up fast, and we could, sell them for a higher price.

Back then, we the children would go out and dig up the earthworms to take them home with us, and, after the rainy was the best time for that, they all came out to the surfaces, some were, wriggling in the soil.  I was, actually, too afraid of them, but, I’d still, put on my rain boots, with that hoe in my hand, and, faced this, challenge.

like this…

photo from online

As I, tilled up the soil, I would see the earthworms, wriggling hard, thankfully, my younger brother who was standing by, quickly picked them up one by one, into the bowls we saved for our ducks, roosters, hens, and chickens.  An earthworm became, like a tangled yarn, wriggling, and trying to, get away, with the ducks, fighting to have their equal shares, the speed to which the former run, doesn’t quite measure up to the latter, and, in a very short time, the earthworms, are completely, gone.

No matter how I’d feared doing this, I’d learned, that earthworms, even though, they are, at the bottom of, the food chains, they have their, values to contribute, quite, a huge one!

And so, this, was the lesson of respect for anything and everything living you’d, gained, from your childhood experiences of, digging up the earthworms, to feed to the fowls that your family was, raising, it’d taught you, that no matter how small the living organisms, they all have something to, contribute to the world.

Home of the Broken Dolls

Call it, shelter, or, dumpster!

There’s this home, of the broken dolls, where, all those dolls that got torn apart (made of cloth), shattered (made of porcelain), go to, die.

Home of the broken dolls, that, is where you belong, you’d been, broken, and I do NOT want you around me, not, go on, GET!  Home of the broken dolls, how cruel those young children are, just, cast us all away, tossed us all away, like we don’t matter, but we had, we were, once, important, significant others in their young lives, it’s just, that they’d, outgrown all of us, and we became, unwanted, TRASH!

where ALL those broken toys go and, D-I-E!

photo from online

Home of the broken dolls, that, is where you’ll be, you got broken by my childhood, and it still, wasn’t my fault, that I couldn’t, save you, I was, too little, too scared myself, I had to, duck for cover, when the storms came, and, you got struck by thunder AND lightning, ‘cuz I forgot, to take you with me into hiding…

I’m sorry, doll, I really am, but now you’re, broken, I have, NO need for you, and you still can’t blame me, for tossing you out, you want someone to blame?  BLAME yourself, for being, MADE from, such, fragile, material…………

In this home of broken dolls, all dolls lay waiting, to D-I-E, they’re all, unwanted, disowned, by their, children.