When my nervous, overly eager freshman self walked through Taipei American School’s (TAS) annual club fair for the first time two years ago, I was completely and utterly amazed. Over the course of that fateful Flex, I was handed numerous pamphlets entailing information about beach clean-ups and climate change protests, begged by countless sweaty students to plant trees and make meals for the homeless with them after school, and thrown handfuls of rare American candy so that I would sign up for clubs that read books to underprivileged orphans on the weekends. After 50 minutes of the most fervent elevator pitches I had ever listened to, I was left with one conclusion: the students of TAS would put even the most qualified philanthropist out of a job in a heartbeat. All jokes aside, it was a great experience. I was pleasantly surprised by how dedicated my new classmates were to making a positive impact in their community.

But as time went on, the faith that I had in the altruism of the TAS student body slowly began to diminish. As I observed the inner workings of these organizations and societies, I became increasingly aware of students complaining about community service requirements, facilitating unimaginative fundraisers to buff up the budgets of their clubs, and desperately applying for every leadership position they could find at the end of the school year, regardless of whether or not the objectives of these clubs aligned with their personal lifestyles and value systems. I saw empowering slogans plastered across school walls and heartbreaking images reposted on Instagram, but I rarely saw tangible change being enacted within or outside of TAS.

Although our community is certainly not devoid of individuals who are genuinely passionate about giving back to others and fighting for specific causes, it’s become clear to me that – for the most part – activism at TAS has transformed into a social currency, one designed almost entirely for personal gain. “A lot of TAS students, [place their focus on] how good their profile looks, especially on college applications,” said Iris T. (‘26), a student leader of the Diversity, Equity & Justice (DEI) Committee. “A lot of the time, it seems like their motivation comes from an ingenious place, which ends up coming off as insensitive. It doesn’t seem like [they] actually want to do the work.” In a competitive setting like TAS, where academic prowess and individual success are top priorities, students are pressured to take on more than they can handle, often resulting in disingenuous and low-impact service work.

The demographic makeup of TAS also contributes to this superficial, insincere approach to activism and community involvement. “Because [TAS] is a wealthy private school, we tend to be really isolated from real-world issues,” said Iris. When students are accustomed to a life of comfort and privilege, and are constantly surrounded by people of similar socioeconomic standings, it becomes very easy to forget about those who don’t have access to the things we often take for granted. Or, when we are aware of these socioeconomic struggles, we lack genuine empathy and curiosity towards those who endure them as we’re unable to relate to their experiences.

“TAS is also 90-something percent East Asian, so there are certain expectations and traditions that come with [that identity]” said Zoe S. (‘26), another DEI student leader. A lack of exposure to individuals from diverse racial and cultural backgrounds can also constrain students’ capacity for empathy and open-mindedness to different struggles. “There’s still a lot of discourse within families that promotes heteronormativity, sexism, [and other conservative ideals]. I think that sort of environment at home definitely plays into how students behave and react to certain situations at school.”

While it’d be ridiculous and completely unrealistic to expect TAS to rapidly diversify its student body or shift its academic-focused culture, change is still achievable. For example, incorporating experiential service learning into core curricular classes would allocate students greater opportunities to interact with communities beyond TAS. By taking field trips to important sites and shelters, collaborating with community organizations in class, engaging in off-campus relief/restoration projects, and more, students will gain valuable exposure to experiences and stories that differ from their own. Introducing this in Lower and Middle School would cultivate a genuine sense of curiosity, empathy, and awareness among students from an early age, thus having a more significant impact on their mindsets and perspectives as they enter Upper School.

Furthermore – although many English, history, and social science courses at TAS successfully begin to reshape students’ views on various struggles and systems while introducing social justice concepts – more comprehensive discourse can occur within these classroom settings. “As much as [humanities] classes try to foster conversation, people don’t engage with it,” said Iris. “They might end up taking the face value claim, but they won’t think of the reasons why that claim is or isn’t true.”  By offering students opportunities to critically reflect on and challenge the material they learn (rather than just digesting it), and by connecting it to issues relevant to their own lives, we can inspire them to think creatively and deeply about these topics rather than just regurgitating slogans and key concepts.

Students at TAS are incredibly socially aware, intelligent, and kind, but are too often isolated from other communities and motivated by the wrong reasons to put those skills to good use. Every year during the club fair, I witness the fervor and drive of my peers. Every time I participate in a socratic seminar in English class, I witness their wisdom and creativity. If we can channel these skills into impactful activism and community service that is inspired by a genuine desire to enact change, TAS can truly become the transformative, trailblazing school it has always set out to be.