A former Cambodian refugee has gained additional professional solace in his role as a Pennsport high school’s principal.
As a huge part of his upbringing lacked intellectual stimulation, Daniel Peou esteems each chance to instruct impressionable minds.
The 44-year-old figure has devoted most of his professional career to bettering the lives of South Philly’s youths and is enjoying his new role as the principal at Horace Furness High School, 1900 S. Third St., an institution that helped him to establish a different identity after harrowing years in his native Cambodia.
“No matter where I have been as an educator, I have tried to relate to everyone and to act as if each child is my own,” he said Monday from the Pennsport site, where he previously served as an assistant principal. “Here I am continuing to honor my commitment to getting to know kids and being approachable.”
The Northeast Philadelphian desired the same camaraderie as a boy, but the Khmer Rouge, followers of the Communist Party of Kampuchea, made four of his formative years nightmarish by confining him and his family to a labor camp.
“Prior to 1975, I had a carefree existence, but changes came so abruptly,” Peou said of his kin’s removal from Battambang and placement in a village. “The government wanted us to have no interaction with the outside world.”
At 7, he faced almost total separation from his siblings and sporadic time with his parents. The tyrannical rulers denied laborers education, their Buddhist religious practices and other resources but offered them a stunning ultimatum.
“We had a choice to work or to die,” he said, adding decapitations and staged executions proved his captors’ severity.
Peou assisted with livestock and retrieved rice to secure pitifully small rations. His clan’s dearth of nutrition caused him to lose a brother, whom his father buried and whose departure left his mother devastated.
“Every day was just another day of trying to survive,” Peou said. “What happened in 1979, though, came as a blessing.”
Vietnamese soldiers invaded Cambodia that year, and his matriarch, seeking no further endangerment, inspired an escape to their former home. Though it provided a renewed sense of self, the abode possessed no assets. His patriarch planned a venture to Thailand and counted on friends to finalize a trek, but it, too, involved risk.
“Khmer Rouge, Vietnamese and Thai troops could have killed us,” Peou said of their travels, which included viewing floating corpses and avoiding land mines.
Time in Thailand’s Khao-I-Dang refugee camp helped him to acquire some formal education, including an introduction to English. He and his friends received a beating over supposed mistreatment of Thai money on one occasion but experienced no major misfortune among their fellow Southeast Asians.
Little did Peou know that South Philly would yield his first United States residence following relocation to the Philippine Refugee Processing Center, which bolstered his English and placed him in a predominantly Roman Catholic country.
“It was there that I became familiar with Christmas,” he said, with his fascination with a decorated tree leading someone to strike him with a stone after supposing he had tried to swipe ornaments.
Shortly after that incident, a sponsor secured space for his family, and a new life began Jan. 5, ’81 with settlement at Third and Shunk streets.
“We had no choice for our destination, as we had to accept any country that would take us,” Peou said. “Anywhere was better than where we were.”
Their local existence began modestly, with struggles to adjust to a new culture, language and cuisine dominating the days. His sparse education led to difficulties at John H. Taggart School, 400 W. Porter St., where he later returned as the Whitman facility’s climate manager. Fate eventually landed him at Furness, where he befriended other ex-refugees and three inspirational teachers, including Valerie Nelsen.
On April 25 in Nepal, a 7.8-magnitude earthquake ravaged the South Asian landlocked nation for approximately 20 seconds, followed by 15 to 20 minutes of aftershocks.
By pretty much all accounts, Furness is a family. And the principal is living proof.
A collection of neighborhood spots dating back to the 17th century and still hanging around today.
“I’m not saying we make the decisions for them, but if we give the children something more constructive, they are more likely to stay out of trouble,” Kim Smith said Monday from George W. Childs School, 1599 Wharton St.
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