Fun with Endocrinology

So today I finally went to the doctor to inquire about hormone level testing. He referred me to the endocrinology clinic of a nearby hospital. He did not charge for the visit.


At the hospital, the specialist spoke very little English. My medical Korean is minimal, so he called for a translator. He giggled a lot (perhaps in linguistic embarassment) throughout the visit. Dr. Giggles, through the translator, expressed the opinion that the hirsutism and menstrual irregularities were caused by my weight, but ordered a bunch of tests just to make sure. The translator walked me through some basic tests, such as EKG, blood pressure check, urine sample and some baffling x-rays. Tomorrow morning, I'll go in for some fasting bloodwork. I can definitely say that were I not living in a country with socialized medicine, I would not have done any of this.


Probably, all hormone levels will test out normal. Probably the doctor will say "eat less and exercise more." I'm working on that. I've bought a bunch of leafy green vegetables and made veggie-tofu dwenjang (fermented soybean paste) soup. I walked more today than I did yesterday. It's a start.

I'm not too fat to teach just yet

This past Friday, I signed another year's contract with the Jeollabukdo Office of Education. I will teach another year in Iksan, South Korea, most likely at the elementary or middle school level. There was some doubt about whether the Iksan Education Office was willing to give me another contract. The foreign teacher liason expressed "concerns" about my health. When I asked him to specify his concerns, he said in an email that he thought my weight might mean that I was unhealthy. I refuted his arguement with a perfect work attendance record and passed health exam, but this issue will probably come up every year that I work in Korea.


There is significant anti-fat prejudice here, and Koreans are more open about their prejudices than Americans. A Korean will tell you right out that you are fat or ugly or whatever.


I realize that my weight does affect my health. It makes my dislocated and arthritic hip more painful. I avoid exercise and am completely out of shape. I get out of breath after climbing a flight or two of stairs. The only foods I really like are greasy, salty and/or sweet.


I've tried changing my diet in the past. I gave up soda and sweets and fats, exercised regularly and so on. I did not lose weight or feel an increase in energy. Never felt the alleged exercise high. I only felt hungry, deprived, sweaty, disgusting and, yes, still fat. I felt as though I were being punished. The ONLY thing that quickly and reliably relieves anxiety and depression for me is food, specifically sweets and simple carbs. Alcohol doesn't work. Anxiolytics take several hours to work. Meditation makes me nervous. Exercise makes me tired and sore, but does NOT improve mood in any way whatsoever. Whether I eat green vegetables or fast food, my size and energy levels stay the same. The only difference is that when I eat only healthy food, I'm also very hungry.


A friend suggested that I have my thyroid hormone level checked. This I plan to do. I'll ask an endocrinologist to check all my hormone levels. I know something's up with my sex hormones, because I am female, but have facial hair.


I'm not sure it's even possible for me to lose weight down to a "normal" level. As for my employment situation, I probably need to be SEEN eating vegetables and exercising and lose at least a little weight to show appropriate concern for my health. I might well end up a semi-vegetarian carb-avoider who exercises daily yet still manages to weigh over 200 pounds. If so, what else can I do? I'm not willing to undergo the extremely risky lap-band surgery or other weight-loss surgeries. I'm also not willing to serve as a guinea pig for the latest inadequately tested diet drug (Fen-Phen anyone?).


Here's what I want: 1. I want the size discrimination to stop
2. I want to be able to climb a couple of flights
of stairs without getting winded
3. I want the pain in my hip to decrease
4. I want to be able to stand for long periods of
time without pain
5. I want to have more energy
6. I want to break my addiction to sugar and bread
7. I want to feel good about my body

No, I'm not working for free

I am a Bad Foreigner.

Today, toward the end of the day, my CT innocently asked if I were busy on the 26th and 27th of the month. The days of that English camp that fall right in the middle of my contract-guaranteed and education office-specified vacation. Was I busy on either or both of those days? Oh, she and the other Korean English teacher could run the camp no problem, but the students, you see, were expecting a foreigner.

When I said that I might be able to help out on the 26th (since I was leaving for vacation on the 27th), she mentioned that (oops) they couldn't pay me. Had we not had that previous "misunderstanding" about the English camp, then she would have been able to budget some salary for me. No obligation here, but could I work a little bit extra for free-- for the kiddies? They would appreciate my presence.

Really? After you already said no, I did not have to do this? After I'd reluctantly CHANGED my PLANE TICKETS to accomodate this unreasonable "request"? You said no, absolutely, I did not have to do it. Now you say, could I please do it, but for no money? Are you trying to punish me? Give me one more chance to redeem myself by submitting to an even less reasonable request? Was this a message about what happens to employees who say "no" the first time they are "asked" to do something?

Feeling manipulated, I said "no." Maybe I just failed another unspoken cultural test, but I'm pretty damn sure that I would NOT have gotten any extra pay for working a day or two during my vacation, had I agreed to do so the first time the subject arose. It's not my responsibility that she and another teacher scheduled the school's English camp during my vacation time and told me about this after I'd made reservations. She didn't push the issue.

I would not be surprised, however, if I get a call closer to the 26th asking if I might just, er, visit the school that day. For an hour or three. No pressure.

This incident triggers anxieties about how Korean employment works, particularly for foreign teachers. We rarely see evaluations of our performance. We are offered (or not offered) contract renewals without knowing why. We don't hear about little (or big) ways we've offended our coworkers or superiors until it's too late. (To be fair, this sort of thing happens in American workplaces too. It's just more frequent here, partly due to cultural differences and Korean non-confrontational, face-saving interaction styles).

I hope this refusal does not lead to unpleasant consequences. I cannot control how my supervisors choose to interpret it. I do not, however, work for free.

Third-person singular androgynous, Third-person singular ambivalent

Friday, a co-teacher and I gave a demo class. At least ten parents attended, mostly mothers. The lesson title was "who is she?" In one activity, two students started at opposite ends of a row of picture cards and made sentences using gendered pronouns.
Examples: He is my grandfather. She is my sister.

I designed this activity specifically to address Korean speakers' tendency to refer to everyone as "she," which can baffle, amuse or even enrage English speakers.

I felt hypocritical emphasizing the importance of using appropriate gendered pronouns since: (1) I do not believe in a rigid gender binary; (2) I personally identify somewhere between masculine and feminine.

Also, my teaching this grammar point was ironic since at least some of my students do not believe that I am female. I've heard them asking my co-teachers (in Korean) and audibly disbelieving the answer. For that matter, Korean adults have asked me point-blank whether I was male or female. One older woman in a bank even tried to touch my breast to check for herself.

Later that day, I needed to use the restroom and approached a public women's restroom. A female custodian said (in Korean), "No! The MEN'S room is over there." I shrugged and used the men's room. (Note: I was wearing tan khaki pants, a blue button-down shirt, and sparkly blue nail polish at the time.)

Honestly, I wish I could avoid gender altogether. That's not possible, especially in Korea. Women and girls are much girlier here than they are in the U.S. They wear lots of make-up, climb mountains in stiletto heels, and cover their mouths when they laugh. One does encounter butch-looking girls now and then, however. I wonder what kind of feedback they get about their gender performance.

Don't get your toenails in a twist

Today, I called the nail salon at HomePlus and made an appointment for a pedicure. I have never done this before, even in the U.S. There is a practical reason why I'm doing so now: due to increased stiffening in the hip joint, I have great difficulty (and pain) in cutting the toenails on my left foot. Usually, I wait until the nails actually snag on things.

For me, a pedicure is both a luxury and a practical solution to a problem. I could use help in trimming my toenails and rubbing off the dead skin on my heels ( of which I can only reach one). I don't need toenail polish, but if it's included, I might as well get it (blue or grass-green, please).

Making the call was a little intimidating. It was actually the first time I've ever made an appointment in Korean. Before making the call, I checked with a Korean coworker about the correct sentence form to use when requesting an appointment. The woman who answered the phone was patient, kind and obviously used to dealing with foreigners. She repeated things as many times as I asked and used English when she could.

Besides the "making a phone call in Korean" factor, there were other reasons why I hesitated to make this apointment. First, I'm ashamed of the condition of my feet. I imagine the nail salon worker taking one look at my feet and yelling (in a mixture of English and Korean) "OMG! That's disgusting! Get out of here!"

Also, I've never thought of myself as the type of person who got pedicures (or any other type of professional grooming besides the occasional haircut). I'm not one of those women on Sex in the City. I'm not entirely comfortable with the label "woman," much less "girly girl." By American standards, I am neither rich nor feminine. I do, however, have really long and disgusting toenails. Practicality wins.

Vacation Drama

First, let me acknowledge that as a person who can afford to take a vacation, I am one of a very privileged few. As a worker whose contract entails a PAID vacation, I’m extremely well-off. As a person who can afford a vacation in another country, I’m off-the-charts lucky.

While trying to keep these facts in perspective, I still lost control of my emotions at work today during a conflict with my CT over vacation time. Several weeks ago, the education office sent all of us EPIK foreigners an email stating that our vacation time would be July 19-July 30th. We were required to attend two weeks of mandatory training starting August 2nd.

My CT told me that our school would be open through July 23rd and that teachers would be required to attend even when there were no classes. Fine. I planned a vacation from July 26th to July 30th. I made plane and hotel reservations.

When I mentioned these reservations this afternoon, my CT looked very surprised. She then informed me that she and the other English teacher (Korean) had, just this past Saturday, settled on a date for the school’s two day “English Camp”: July 26th and July 27th.

She said she didn’t want to ruin my vacation. She said it was ok, that they could manage the camp without me. What I heard was, “If you have any loyalty to this school and professional work ethic, you will work when we tell you to.” When she said, “you don’t have to change your vacation,” what I heard, over interpreting Korean non-confrontational communication styles (and perhaps also listening to internalized guilt), was “You should change your plans so you can work those days.” I have NEVER heard a manager or supervisor ask me to work on a given day, say it was fine if I had other plans, and MEAN it.

I told her (as I believed I was obligated to do) that I would change the reservations. I also expressed annoyance about suddenly finding out that I’d lost two vacation days. I asked for help in communicating with the travel agency. Called them 8 times. No answer. I got increasingly upset. I showed the CT the email from the board of ed. She said that Korean teachers had to come in and work during their vacations. She said that she had given me plenty of notice about the English camp. She said that she had no idea about foreigners getting July 19th-30th off. She said that my getting upset made her upset. She stormed out of the room.

I emailed the travel agency and requested a change of flight dates, which I got for no charge. I emailed the hotel booking agency with the same request (am still waiting on that one). Trying not to cry, I called the foreign teacher liaison at the education office (the one who had sent the email about vacation dates). She was expressed surprise that my school had told me I was supposed to work through the 23rd and again on the 26th and 27th. She said not to worry, that she would call my CT and send an official document regarding vacation time.

I tried to calm down, but my mind shredded itself with worries that I had now irrevocably poisoned my work environment for the next seven months. I called myself stupid for even thinking about applying for Korean citizenship when I obviously couldn’t manage Korean workplace communication.

Eventually, the CT came back. She had spoken with the ed office and said she understood about the vacation time. She said it was a cultural difference that I expected not to have to work during vacation time even though Korean teachers did. She said I did not have to change the dates of the trip to Japan or work at the English camp. I explained that I had already changed the dates and could work at the camp if necessary. She said no, I absolutely did not have to work at the camp.

She said that she was upset because I had been repeating two contradictory messages: 1) that I could change the dates of my trip; and 2) that I was very upset about the loss of vacation time (if I had to work through the 23rd and again on the 26th and 27th, that would be 7 days vacation instead of the promised ten, a significant difference). I explained that I did not take her literally when she said it was “ok” for me not to work on the 26th and 27th. I’ve heard the mendacious/polite “ok” from other bosses, Korean and Western. I interpreted her “ok” as “legally, you can do this, but I will make you pay for it.”

She said she meant exactly what she said. Maybe so. She took my hand and repeatedly apologized for hurting my feelings.

I still have some questions:
1) Why did the office of education notify the foreign teachers, but NOT their workplaces, about vacation time?
2) How do I tell when a CT is telling me the truth?
3) Am I reading far more into what she and others (Korean and foreign) say than what they actually mean?
4. Or am I just being a martyr?

There’s definitely some truth to #3. For as long as I can remember, other people (almost always female) frequently criticized me for not reading between the lines. By failing to pick up on unspoken requests, criticisms, hints, etc., I provoked anger. At one point, I even wondered if I might have ADHD or a mild form of autism. Now, by default, I assume that in any given communication in which I am the least bit uncomfortable, there is significant unstated negative content coming from the other person(s). Being defensive and paranoid, I assume that there is always another shoe to drop, no matter how hard I listen and count the “thuds.” Rethinking this assumption might make me more optimistic, but would also leave me vulnerable to unpleasant surprises. Oh wait—those happen anyway. Damn.

Another question: would a man feel he had to worry so damn much about the hidden meanings in every conversation? (I’ve often heard men complain about this when talking about their girlfriends and wives.)

Anyway, there appears to be no permanent damage from today’s unpleasantness. I will still go to Japan, just a few days later. I can see the same places, do the same things, and pay the same prices. I also have a few days off work before the trip to Japan, which I can use for day trips within Korea (Busan, Seoul, Daegu, etc.), getting a re-entry visa at immigration, and arranging for the cat’s boarding. Oh—and I need a refill on the Prozac.

Smelly Foreigners

It has recently come to my attention that I stink. My CT, after much squirming and agonizing aloud about possibly hurting my feelings by talking to me about such a private thing, informed me that I have an offensive body odor. She said that this had been bothering her for a long time and that she was afraid to say anything, but that if she didn't, the situation would continue. She said that this was the reason she always opened the window in our (very large) shared office. She told me that the other CT also thought I smelled bad. Then she squirmed some more and asked if I was offended.

Swallowing massive and painful embarrassment, I said that I was not offended, that I preferred her to speak frankly, and that I would try a different soap. We hardly spoke to each other for the rest of the afternoon except to discuss an upcoming extra class that I would soon start teaching.

(I wish I could say this is the first time someone has sat me down for the "you stink" conversation, but it isn't. During late high school or early college, I went through an "I don't think deodorant is necessary" phase. The guidance counselor did the necessary intervention on behalf of one or more anonymous complainants. I knew something was up when she said she wanted us to have a "chat" and then started asking me whether I used soap when I did laundry. (At least CT didn't go into details like that.))


After work, I went to several bath and body type shops. Feeling like a (butch) elephant in those tiny, fragrant places, I tried to avoid the smiling clerks and inspect the rows of bottles and tubes, arranged by color, in peace. I bought shower gel in lavender, rosemary-mint, orange-mint, and chamomile scents. I also bought peppermint shampoo and a few colors of nail polish, baby powder, face powder, a shower pouf and some tea-tree oil soap. I still draw the line at make-up, skirts, heels and hose. Those are not going on my body anytime in the forseeable future.


Anyway, I've started using the aromatic bath products and pushing myself to shower more often than I'd been doing. Now and then I use nail polish. Teachers and kids both squeal over this. I've let my buzz cut grow out some. Yep. I'm succombing somewhat to gender pressure. I can't be transgender here the way I was back in the U.S. Or maybe I'm just tired of kids asking what sex I am and not being able to tell them that it shouldn't matter.

Health Check Bullshit

On May 14th (Teachers' Day), I went to Wonkwang University's Health Promotion Center (HPC) for one of two required annual health checks. This one involved fasting bloodwork, urine tests, chest x-rays, vision and hearing tests, weight, blood pressure, dental exam and questionnaires. The people who did these things barely spoke English and my Korean was not up to the job. The person at the front desk, using a calendar, told me that they would send the results to my employer in one week.

That was over two weeks ago. Said employer just called me wanting to know whether I'd done a health check at all. Now I'm trying not to panic. My mind is twirling with possibilities, none of them good:

1. The HPC LOST my paperwork and I'll have to do the whole damned thing over again.
2. One or more test results was so bad that the HPC is filling out special forms to send to my employer.
3. The HPC sent their only copy of the paperwork to the wrong place and I'll have to do the whole thing again.
4. The test results were declared invalid because I didn't manage to pee enough in the cup.
5. The HPC did send the paperwork and my employer lost it.
6. The HPC did send the paperwork and my employer has it but is lying about that fact for some nefarious reason.
7. There was a complete miscommunication between the health providers and me regarding where to send the paperwork or whether I was supposed to pick it up myself. (I did ask if I should come and they said, "no.")
8. The HPC is just very slow in processing paperwork and because of this, I've already missed some critical deadline.
9. The HPC got my name wrong on some or all of the paperwork.

I wish I could just go to directly to immigration or the employer's office, donate a pint of blood and PROVE, definitively, that despite being a foreigner, I am neither on drugs nor HIV positive. I'd give blood every month or two if that's what it took to avoid this mischigoss.

Added to these worries is the fact that people, Korean and foreign, have been inquiring about my health, particularly that aspect of it that causes me to walk with a cane. Perhaps I'm being too sensitive about this, but I feel that I must prove my ability to teach despite being physically imperfect.

As an American who is used to health information privacy laws, I am already intensely uneasy about my employer having full access to all my health information. All they need to know is that I am not carrying any dangerous diseases, using any illegal substances, or about to drop dead in the middle of my contract. They do not need to know my weight, blood pressure, exercise habits, tooth brushing habits, vision, cholesterol, or anything else.

The health check was a stressful, frightening and time-consuming process, especially since it was conducted in a mixture of broken Korean and broken English. One health professional after another asked questions that I only partly understood. I do not know what they wrote down on which forms. I do not want to go through this experience any more times than absolutely necessary in order to maintain my visa and job. I do not understand why two separate health checks (within a couple of months of each other) were necessary at all.

I worry that someone from the education office will suddenly inform me that due to my weight or disability, I can no longer work in the Korean public schools or (worst case scenario) in Korea at all. I know that in Korea, laws and policies can be flexible depending on who you know and who your boss knows. I don't think I have any conditions that absolutely disqualify me from working here (the main concerns being drug use and HIV). Still, when people say they are "concerned," alarm bells go off in my head. I hear "concerned" and think "looking for a reason to get rid of me."

Surprise! New Schedule (again).

Today, I taught first and second grade students at Namchang Elementary School. Usually, I teach fifth and sixth graders. Until approximately 10 minutes before class, I assumed that I would be teaching fifth and sixth graders. As per co-teacher requests, I had prepared activities for fifth and sixth graders. When I entered the teachers' room, the secretary and an unfamilar teacher, neither of whom spoke much English, informed me of the change in schedule. Oh, and today would be the first and second grade students' very first English lesson. No pressure.

Suppressing the urge to shout at someone, I checked my USB drive (memory stick) for Emergency Classroom Activities. There were several. Whenever I find something that works, whether in the regular classroom or at English camp, I keep the relevant files on the USB that travels with me at all times. This prepares me somewhat for surprise schedule changes like today's.

I chose three things: the self-introductory "Who is the Foreign Teacher?" powerpoint; the Hokey Pokey (first showing a video on youtube); and some classroom English (open the book, close the book, wait, I can't see, etc.). The students had a good time. We all laughed a lot. I heard one of the KTs telling the assistant principal (in Korean) about the foreign teacher's fun English lesson. Students were especially impressed by the photo of Chingu the cat and delighted to learn the words "backside" and "shake."

On the one hand, I am glad that classes went so well. I was able, at a moment's notice, to come up with age-appropriate activities and lead two new classes. I spoke enough Korean to explain things when the KT could not. I probably handled the situation better than a less-experienced foreign teacher would have done, simply because I had accumulated enough back-up activities. Had I walked in with only one lesson plan and nothing else, I would have panicked and floundered.

On the other hand, I cannot help but wonder if handling the switcheroo so calmly will hinder my efforts to get the coteachers at this school to TELL me in advance when they know the schedule will change. I understand that emergencies happen. By definition, emergencies are unpredictable. Today was not an emergency.

The upper grade students and teachers were off at a special training in another city. They do this training every year. All the teachers knew it was coming. They could have told me.

Yesterday at Gohyeon, upon my request, my CT went through the entire year's calendar with me, pointing out every exam, special day and holiday. Next time I teach at Namchang, I'll ask the main CT to do the same.

No matter what I do, I cannot always anticipate changes in my teaching schedule. I am a foreigner. Korean teachers and administrators seldom remember to tell the foreigner what is going to happen until the very moment before it happens. They assume that the foreigner knows what everyone else knows. Or they are uncomfortable speaking English to the foreigner.

I frequently remind myself that there are also cultural differences at work here. At the schools where I've worked in Korea, bosses and teachers seem to prefer winging it rather than planning ahead (not always, but more so than most Americans with whom I've worked). As a westerner, I try to anticipate and control everything, even the future. My Korean coworkers try to go with the flow.

After working in Korea for a little over two years, I have become more flexible, but will probably always think like a westerner at the deepest levels. Meanwhile, I'll keep collecting classroom activities that are appropriate for a variety of grade levels, no matter what I am officially scheduled to teach. That small USB is my sanity-saver.

Hello-Chorus Frogs and Preposition Charades

Imagine walking through a school building and hearing "hellohellohellohello" every few seconds and from every direction. After a while, it sounds like a pondful of frogs. Good thing I like frogs.

Today, I taught 5th grade students with Ms. K. She'd asked me to prepare a game that would help students review the contents of Chapter 3: "It's Under the Table." I decided to focus on prepositions, specifically: under, on, in, next to, near, between and behind. I brainstormed til I had a short list of activity ideas, having learned that a teacher always needs a back-up.

First period, after a quick review of the preposition powerpoint presentation (ppp), we played Simon Says, focusing on commands that contained prepositions, such as "put your hands ON your head." After I acted as Simon for a few turns, I asked students to be Simon. There were three problems with this: students could not think of their own command sentences; students had trouble remembering the sentences I whispered to them; students spoke so quietly that few if any could hear them. After class, the Ms. K., when asked her opinion about the activity, said that the students had played Simon Says many times, so it was no longer fresh for them. I decided to try Charades next time.

Second period, we reviewed the ppp, then played Charades. Ms. K and I demonstrated how to act out a preposition. Then we chose pairs of students to act out prepositions while the rest of the class tried to guess which word was being shown. When this proved too easy, Ms. K told the students to make sentences about what the actors were doing. She said "one, two, THREE" and told students to stand if they wished to make a sentence. We listened to all sentences. Then, I stated some examples of correct sentences about the situation ("The book is behind the girls.") Each student who had spoken a good-enough sentence recieved a no-homework pass from Ms. K. [She hands these out very liberally. I wonder whether any of her students end up having to do homework. Maybe only the ones who never participate have to do it.]

Between second and third period, I wrote the prepositions on bits of paper, folded the bits and put them in a box. Now the actors would have to choose random prepositions to act out for the class. Ms. K. coached the actors (in whispered Korean) and handed them props such as books, pencils or boxes.

I noticed that she usually told both students to do the same thing, such as stand with books on their heads, rather than work together to show a spatial relationship. At lunch, I mentioned this, and said that I wanted the students to do the latter.

During the next class period, we tried it. The results were hilarious. Students giggled when a girl put her hand on a boy's head or two students held a stuffed rabbit between them.

I also noticed that students had some trouble correctly using the preposition "in." In Korean, one uses post-positions. In Korean the sentence "The cat is in the bag." is "고양이가 가방 안에 있서요." (The cat bag in is). Due to this difference in syntax, Korean students are especially prone to saying things like "bag cat in" or "bag in cat" when they mean "cat in bag."

To address this confusion, I drew two pictures on the board. Picture A showed a stickman inside the belly of a large fish. Picture B showed a stickman eating a fish. (I later changed Picture B to a small fish inside a stickman's belly.) Again, we asked students to make sentences about the situations.

The activity improved throughout the day. To be honest, I had not been expecting to have to play a game for most of the class period. I thought that Ms. K. would, as she had done many times before, give a quiz first or something like that. I was not clear on how long the game was supposed to last. Next time, I'll ask.

Teaching While Disabled

I am an American who has been teaching English in Korea for more than two years now, first in Daegu and now in Iksan. I have taught preschool, kindergarten, elementary and middle school students. Thus far, the experience has been more positive than negative. I hope to continue working here at least a few more years.

I also have osteoarthritis, secondary to a congenitally dislocated hip. One leg is noticably shorter than the other. (The leg-length discrepancy has slowly increased over many years.) Recently, I have started using a cane to walk. Now I am visibly disabled. I'm still getting used to the cane. I drop it a lot, accidentally hit things with it, and never know where to put it while I'm sitting. Sometimes I worry that I look like I'm faking it. (A real cripple would know how to handle a cane properly.)

Here in Korea, people with disabilities are not often seen out in public. Where are they? At home? In institutions? Schools and businesses are rarely disability-accessible. How do people who use wheelchairs or service dogs survive? Relatively, my disability is minor. I can’t walk quickly or for long periods of time. Sitting on the floor is very difficult. I can’t tie my left shoe if it’s still on my foot. I can climb stairs, albeit slowly and painfully.

Korean co-teachers have pointed out two or three students who are (in their words) “physically challenged.” They sit in the back of the classroom and doodle. They do not speak or write English at all. I asked if these students were receiving any special help. They are, but not in English classes.

Occasionally, an injured student uses crutches. There are no elevators. There are no mobility-impaired students at either of the schools where I currently work, nor were there any at last year’s school. I have not noticed any visually-impaired or hearing-impaired students either. If there are students with ADHD and learning disabilities, no one mentions the fact. For the most part, people with disabilities are invisible in Korea. I wonder if I am the first visibly disabled teacher my students have seen. Strangely enough, very few students have (yet) asked questions about the way I walk. They ask lots of other questions, mostly about gender, nationality, age, marital status, knowledge of Korean language and culture, and favorite foods. Perhaps they ask the Korean teachers when I am not present.

At least they are not afraid of the cane, which I sometimes use as a pointer. Corporal punishment is legal in Korean schools. The teachers at last year's middle school hit students with sticks. At my current elementary schools, I have not seen any teacher hitting a student.

At work, I try to perform the role of Good Cripple, for fear that I will lose my job if I ask for any accommodations. I don’t know if Korea has any law similar to the Americans with Disabilities Act. Even if there is such a law on the books, that does not necessarily mean that businesses and government organizations follow it. In the U.S., a person or organization wants to discriminate against someone, they find a way. The person or corporation (which might have legal personhood anyway, but that’s another topic), can always write something else down on a form or say something weaselly about safety concerns or “not a good fit.” They can even deny the discrimination altogether.

I started bringing the cane to work after my supervising co-teacher (alien-wrangler), noticing me using an umbrella like a cane, told me matter-of-factly that if I needed a stick to walk, I should bring one. So I did. I can walk without a cane, but I lurch like a zombie (Braaaaaaaaiiiiiins!) and my arthritic and dislocated hip hurts badly after even a few minutes of standing or walking without support.

Now that I am out as a cripple, people fetch things for me and offer me a choice of seats. They remember more often to ask if I need to take the elevator. They ask if I’m ok walking x meters from point A to point B instead of saying “it’s just a few more blocks” for the tenth time. I’m simultaneously grateful and uncomfortable when people fuss over me like that. Are they treating me like a cripple? A lady? An old person? An old crippled lady? Maybe. Probably. (Also, in Korea, I’m Visibly Foreign and therefore freakish, ignorant, sometimes cute and not quite human.) Inside my mind, I like to think I am a competent, low-maintenance, mostly drama-free person, somewhere on the masculine side of androgynous. I handle spiders and open jars for people. I am not fragile.

I have gone several times to an orthopedic clinic here in Iksan. The doctors rotate, so I never know which one I will see. They took x-rays, confirming the hip dysplasia. They prescribed NSAIDs and a narcotic-like painkiller. They gave me NSAID shots in the ass. They referred me to the physical therapy clinic upstairs for electrostimulation, ultrasound and heating pads.

None of this makes much difference, so I have not gone back to the clinic for a few weeks. I can get the same amount of pain blunting from over-the-counter naproxen sodium (Alleve). The butt shots caused bruising, pain and numbness. The numbness has persisted for several weeks after the last shot.

Through drawings, the phone dictionary and a mixture of English and Korean, I can (sort of) communicate with the doctors at the clinic. Their English levels vary. I tried to ask about getting a lift for my left shoe to compensate for the shorter left leg, but failed to get the message across. I tried to ask about discrimination laws and whether my disability might make me ineligible to teach in Korea. The doctor asked me to bring a Korean friend next time. I have yet to do so. Part of this is sheer embarrassment. I do not want to ask Julie (or anyone else) to come translate for me. I do not want the friend and the doctor to talk about me as if I were a child or not there.

Eventually, I will have to ask a Korean friend to come with me to the clinic. The pain and loss of mobility will override the embarrassment. Maybe there is a professional interpreter I could call. I could also go to the special foreigners’ office at Wonkwang University Hospital.

I do not like to ask for help. The word itself feels shameful. It reminds me of accepting money from family in the past when I could not pay my own bills. It also reminds me of a miserably stressful year and a half teaching stint at IS 666 in Brooklyn. When the AP and principal offered to “help”, I knew that they had begun the paperwork that would end in my being fired (or asked to resign). I was advised by veteran teachers (at other schools) to “fly under the radar”- just close my door and don’t complain or ask for help or even acknowledge any difficulties. In that situation, they were right. When I did complain of sexual and other forms of harassment, threats, menacing, destruction of property and other hostile behavior from students, the principal blamed me for not being sufficiently assertive. She also pointed out that I was “unusual-looking.” She meant that I was fat and female-bodied, and sporting very short hair and masculine clothing.

What does a negative teaching experience in Brooklyn have to do with a (thus far) good one in Iksan, South Korea? The key word here is “help.” In the first situation, an offer of help was more about bureaucratic ass-covering than any real desire to assist. In Brooklyn, I was told, tacitly and explicitly never to show weakness, since students can smell blood. At that time, I was limping, but not using a cane. I was in the process of coming out as lesbian and genderqueer. That job ended with a breakdown and a resignation for mental health reasons. To be blunt, I told the union representative that I was having suicidal thoughts and needed to leave right away. For several months, I felt helpless, worthless and defective.

I have tried to put that experience behind me, but painful memories remain, which can be triggered by certain words, phrases and situations. One such situation is being offered help, whether in or out of the classroom. In Korea, teaching is far more collaborative than in the U.S. Teachers share lesson ideas and talk about what works and what does not. As a Guest English Teacher, I usually work with a Korean teacher in the classroom. Sometimes, we alternate leading activities. Sometimes, the KT sits in the back and offers an occasional translation when necessary. Sometimes, I plan the whole lesson. Sometimes, I plan a part. With every co-teacher, the relationship is different.

I am still working out how to co-teach with my main co-teacher. We have gone back and forth about who does what, with many miscommunications but basically a positive working relationship. I have to stifle anxiety verging on panic, though, when she tells me that a particular activity doesn’t work or that I need to prepare more X or Y next time. I keep worrying that this is a warning sign of imminent dismissal. Never mind that Korea has a shortage of English teachers (especially ones with TESOL certificates and teaching experience). I still combine “Koreans are non-confrontational” with “I’ve lost jobs in the past without warning” and “Offer-of-help from boss equals “firing paper trail has already begun” and start panicking.

Where does disability tie into all this? Teaching involves moving around the classroom. The written guidelines for GETs in Korea says "teachers should stand while teaching." Teachers who sit down too much are perceived as not working enough or not working effectively with students. I do not complain about the stairs at work. I have not said anything about how it is difficult to get around the classroom when the tables are very close together. I do not want to give my co-teacher (or principal) any excuse to complain to the Education Office. I think today my CT finally got that I take a taxi to and from work not because I am rich and lazy (though I am in fact lazy) but because I would be in serious pain from the 30-minute (each way) walk.

Later this week, I plan on checking the hours for the swimming pool at the YMCA. I need to find some non weight-bearing exercise that I can do before or after work. I need to preserve enough mobility to work. The next post will most likely concern swimsuit anxiety and a rant about shaving.