Iteach at a Chinese primary school in the Malaysian countryside. The school has only ninety pupils, and our tumbledown old schoolhouse is dreadfully badly equipped. But the children's happy smiles are incredibly beautiful.

Malaysia has an enlightened government which does not interfere with the existence of Chinese schools as in some other Southeast Asian countries. But as times have progressed, more and more people have left to work or study in other areas, and the bonds of traditional society have loosened. The few dozen children who still go to school here in the countryside belong to the sunshine and the earth!

Many parents looking for a better life have moved to the city. For city children, life moves at a faster pace, and they work hard studying English, Japanese and so on. But they forget the importance of their own mother tongue. Only those parents who prefer the Chinese school still insist on sending their children to our pint-sized village school, which has only five teachers including the head teacher. But we are all very close to each other. The children's faces reveal their pure innocence, and they sing out from their hearts with the voices of spring.

The villagers' incomes are limited, and they cannot afford to rebuild the schoolhouse. On finishing sixth grade many pupils go away to find work. Because the standard of education the school can give them is not high, their incomes barely suffice to meet the high cost of living in the city, so they have no money to spare to give back to their old school. The old folk they leave behind grit their teeth and carry on. Although the number of pupils declines year by year and there is a large turnover of teachers, they still want to keep the school open.

Being with these children from morning till evening, sometimes I cannot help feeling sad. The children's dreams are of aeroplanes, trains, ships and the outside world, but all they have is a bicycle and the backdrop of nature. In the morning they come to school for their lessons, and after school they help with the work at home. The children's life is very hard, but in their minds the school is their heaven, and it seems that when they arrive here their spirits rise.

I have been here six years. The children's happy faces and unfeigned affection make me feel an attachment which more than makes up for the inconveniences of living in the country, or the low salary. Have you taken part in a simple but festive Children's Day celebration? A crowd of pupils standing outside on the basketball court, dancing out their own spring--no decorations, no stage, and certainly no loudspeakers, just the joyous sound of their voices as they sing out the world in their hearts with complete concentration. This is happiness in the sunshine, a contentment untrammelled by material possessions.

For the children, our old and dilapidated schoolhouse is not only a paradise of laughter, but also a treasurehouse of knowledge. The children are so sincere, so full of hope and so alive. The sunlight caresses them with gentleness, and I see so many faces filled with joy, so many hearts filled with innocence. Their innocence bears within it an incomparable radiance and vitality. There is nothing happier than children's joy. How I hope that in the passing of time, I can rediscover my own childlike innocence.