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.