Yes, of course it's pretty much the same with Chinatowns the world over. Like most truly insular cultures, it's their way or the highway. And if you can't afford to leave, or if you don't happen to have a permanent way out... well, then you're more or less stuck. Stranded. And therefore at the mercy of the locals who seem to think that their food is the best, and their ways are the only ways that truly matter. Though sure, life is more or less like that in any country or culture. Of course it is.
But therein lies the rub. Because day after day, year after year, being an unwilling expat stuck longterm in a place that's totally foreign to you can eventually become a bleeding mental agony of infinite proportions, especially if you weren't born in said country and don't even like their overly spiced up food to begin with. Which I don't.
But therein lies the rub. Because day after day, year after year, being an unwilling expat stuck longterm in a place that's totally foreign to you can eventually become a bleeding mental agony of infinite proportions, especially if you weren't born in said country and don't even like their overly spiced up food to begin with. Which I don't.
Yes, of course, I like a few traditional Korean dishes. A handful, maybe. The rest are either bland (without the copious amount of chili sauce they add to make it less bland), not particularly appetizing, or just plain unappetizing to begin with (as far as I'm personally concerned, anyway). And it's not just Korea. Some kinds of food in Far East Asia are even incredibly disgusting, and I"m not the only westerner who feels the same.
In fact, I can hardly even understand how some of the local dishes in China and/or Taiwan, for example, can even pass for "food." Well, that's my own personal preference, of course, but keep in mind that the cuisine that a given individual likes or doesn't enjoy is something that usually doesn't change all that much throughout the course of ones' life. Even and especially if the mere fact happens to nevertheless offend the locals.
At any rate, the one good thing is that my Korean fiancee (now wife) and I got married in December, 2012. Much of the rest, however, as one might expect, based on the title of this blog entry alone, has gone pretty sour for me, especially of late.
However, and I stress this very strongly, even though I am at my wits end with many aspects of Korean CULTure at this point, I still find it more tolerable than the previous Asian countries I lived in before this. Not that there aren't similarly negative things about all those places, because there certainly are. It's just that Korean society can often be needlessly shallow, impossibly two-faced, unrealistically demanding, and yes, controlling as hell. K-hell. Because as much as I, a "weiguksaram" (a foreigner) may complain, Koreans tend to be the ones who suffer the very most from their own hyper-demanding bully boy excuse for a society.
Now, please bear with me, don't be overly critical, and for God's sake, don't automatically prejudicially seek to cast me down into the aforementioned K-hell. Not yet anyway. Not until you've heard the whole story. And come on; everybody knows quite well that many aspects of various Asian cultures are more controlling than the habits of many other groups of people.
For example, in Far East Asia, people try to control, not just your physical appearance, but even a person's right to express their feelings. A particularly problematic example of this is that East Asian parents often try to control whether their children even have the innate aptitude for subjects such as math, science, or even whether their sons or daughters are really able to eventually become something akin to the latest piano virtuoso or world class cellist.
And that's all just a well known fact. Don't take my word for it. Look at an actual Asian American blog or two, or... better yet, read the works of the wonderfully talented Amy Tan. Believe me, she'll set you straight. And all guilt free. Because she's Chinese American and can therefore say whatever the hell she wants about the history and culture of her own people.
At any rate, I used to complain about how controlling some aspects of Chinese and Taiwanese culture can sometimes be, but even long before I began to live and work in South Korea, I always highly suspected that, by comparison, Korean and Japanese cultures are much worse when it comes to controlling behaviors.
At any rate, I used to complain about how controlling some aspects of Chinese and Taiwanese culture can sometimes be, but even long before I began to live and work in South Korea, I always highly suspected that, by comparison, Korean and Japanese cultures are much worse when it comes to controlling behaviors.
In fact, I think Japanese culture is probably the most demanding in that regard, but Korean society certainly seems to come in at a very, very close second. Believe me, from what I've personally experienced after many years in the region, Confucius, or rather, all the bureaucrats who later used his teachings to manipulate and control the masses, seem to have really had their way with the many generations of people of Far East Asia in general.
In fact, that wise old sage, Confucius, allegedly had something suspiciously akin to his invasive "special purpose" man-part up into every orifice of the skulls of the masses in China, Korea, and Japan (and probably Southeast Asia, too) - even long after he was dead, and the society squandering effects of the brainwashing his self righteous (but surely learned and well meaning) scribblings has caused over the ages have yet to wear off to any effective degree. Even to this very day, unfortunately.
In fact, that wise old sage, Confucius, allegedly had something suspiciously akin to his invasive "special purpose" man-part up into every orifice of the skulls of the masses in China, Korea, and Japan (and probably Southeast Asia, too) - even long after he was dead, and the society squandering effects of the brainwashing his self righteous (but surely learned and well meaning) scribblings has caused over the ages have yet to wear off to any effective degree. Even to this very day, unfortunately.
So much so, that there are quite a few problems in Far East Asia that can really throw one for a loop, especially if you're used to life in Taiwan or some place else more culturally relaxed than buttoned up, decidedly anal and oral retentive Korea or Japan.
Or, even social and/or cultural climes even more dissimilar, such as Canada, the US or the UK, where these disturbing little cultural attempts to bully and squash the very soul might just knock you clean onto your unsuspecting buttocks, should you be unprepared, even in the slightest, when encountering them.
For starters, in South Korea, there is this perverted custom that kids and even some adults here sometimes practice that is known as "dong-chim," which unfortunately involves a person, usually some little kid that you're supposed to restrain yourself from ripping limb from limb when they suddenly, totally without warning, shove their two rigidly extended forefingers right up into the crack of your anus.
And in public, no less! Apparently, the idea is to catch the victim off guard and get them to grimace or jump unexpectedly. This curious and quite, dare I say, perverted little habit apparently originally came from Japan, where it is still, to this day, even more common than it is here in South Korea.
And kids will be kids, right? Sure. To other kids. But should they be allowed to get away with doing that sort of thing to adults? In fact, I repeatedly got the dong-chim treatment at the kindergarten I worked at my first 2 years here in South Korea. But I only put up with it for the first couple of weeks.
And kids will be kids, right? Sure. To other kids. But should they be allowed to get away with doing that sort of thing to adults? In fact, I repeatedly got the dong-chim treatment at the kindergarten I worked at my first 2 years here in South Korea. But I only put up with it for the first couple of weeks.
In fact, I got so damn sick and tired of literally being bullied by a number of particularly rotten little kindergarteners (all Korean boys, no less) that I finally threw a fit and demanded that the school take steps to prevent the kids from practicing such a blatantly harassing and clear misguided cultural habit in the first place.
Because, let's see... dong chim, if you really think about it, is pretty much a form of sexual harassment, for crying out loud!!! Think about it: Are little kids actually all that much more innocent than adult offenders in the matter? Sure, to some extent, but come on! If a kindergarten aged child does something like that, then it usually means that someone taught them that it was okay to begin with. Perhaps their peer or even, God forbid, their parents!
So here's the real point: There definitely is a time to slap little Kim, Park, or Lee's hand, and I'd say that that time would preferably be before he gets it burned off in the fire he is dumb enough to reach out to in his or her childish foolishness.
At any rate, the Japanese call this humiliatingly offensive cultural practice "Kancho." In fact, this disturbingly shameless, socially irresponsible, perverted and quite juvenile habit is so common in Japan and Korea, that there is even a major video game designed for the Japanese/Korean market that allows players to go around anally penetrating an assorted cast of easily tortured electronic victims in the game's fictional world. To get a better understanding of this, kindly follow the link to learn more about "Boong-Ga, Boong-Ga."
Hmm. Sounds to me like, "Time to take it up the backside, Asian style, whether you like it or not!"
Whatever the case may indeed actually be, I don't give a big, fetid, smoldering crap what you call it. It's an offensive and quite unnecessary violation of my personal rights and physical privacy, and I simply will not put up with it. Even if I have to call in an impromptu air strike on some repressed (and by the usual and painfully predictable extension, sometimes quite perverted) locals.
After all, no "culture" is above the basic laws of right and wrong, and the sacred right of any individual to control what does or does not go into his or her own damn rectum is simply inalienable, is it not? Especially given that we all share pretty much the same DNA, regardless of skin color or so-called ethnic, social or sexually oriented origin or "race."
At any rate, the Japanese call this humiliatingly offensive cultural practice "Kancho." In fact, this disturbingly shameless, socially irresponsible, perverted and quite juvenile habit is so common in Japan and Korea, that there is even a major video game designed for the Japanese/Korean market that allows players to go around anally penetrating an assorted cast of easily tortured electronic victims in the game's fictional world. To get a better understanding of this, kindly follow the link to learn more about "Boong-Ga, Boong-Ga."
Hmm. Sounds to me like, "Time to take it up the backside, Asian style, whether you like it or not!"
Whatever the case may indeed actually be, I don't give a big, fetid, smoldering crap what you call it. It's an offensive and quite unnecessary violation of my personal rights and physical privacy, and I simply will not put up with it. Even if I have to call in an impromptu air strike on some repressed (and by the usual and painfully predictable extension, sometimes quite perverted) locals.
After all, no "culture" is above the basic laws of right and wrong, and the sacred right of any individual to control what does or does not go into his or her own damn rectum is simply inalienable, is it not? Especially given that we all share pretty much the same DNA, regardless of skin color or so-called ethnic, social or sexually oriented origin or "race."
Better yet, almost all of us humble homo sapiens come equipped at birth with two arms, two legs, a head, a torso and sexual organs, don't we? If we're all so damned equal in that regard, why divide us all up and make special exceptions about which regional tribe gets to get away with the most despicable behavior?
No, no, NO! Good folks who are smart enough to know better, know that none of us should have to put up with juvenile pranks, no matter where we may be stuck living and working for any given period of time. Bottom line: Everybody's got rights, dude. Even poor dumb white guys who are foolish or down on their luck enough to be forced to have to teach English in East Asia!
At any rate, age discrimination is also unfortunately a huge thing in South Korea. In fact, I got rejected within the first 60 seconds of an interview last fall (2011) because I was told that I am "too old." This, despite the fact that most people who know me in person know damn well that I've always looked at least a decade or more younger than my actual age all my life.
No, no, NO! Good folks who are smart enough to know better, know that none of us should have to put up with juvenile pranks, no matter where we may be stuck living and working for any given period of time. Bottom line: Everybody's got rights, dude. Even poor dumb white guys who are foolish or down on their luck enough to be forced to have to teach English in East Asia!
At any rate, age discrimination is also unfortunately a huge thing in South Korea. In fact, I got rejected within the first 60 seconds of an interview last fall (2011) because I was told that I am "too old." This, despite the fact that most people who know me in person know damn well that I've always looked at least a decade or more younger than my actual age all my life.
So sure, I'm 45 now, but in most cases, I am still able to pass for 35 most of the time. And I'm not trying to hide anything. I get a year older every year, just like everybody else on this planet, but most people who meet me simply assume that I'm much younger than I actually am.
Granted, I hadn't had a lot of sleep the night before the interview, which probably did cause me to look a bit more haggard than usual, but it was shocking beyond belief how direct the Korean male A-hole I so briefly talked to at that particular interview who was so incredibly blatant and unapologetic about discriminating against me purely on the basis of age.
Granted, I hadn't had a lot of sleep the night before the interview, which probably did cause me to look a bit more haggard than usual, but it was shocking beyond belief how direct the Korean male A-hole I so briefly talked to at that particular interview who was so incredibly blatant and unapologetic about discriminating against me purely on the basis of age.
And get this. My resume had already been accepted in advance, before the interview was even arranged. The color photo of me that was attached to the document was taken during the summer of the just the previous year!
But gosh, it often does seem that many people in this region seem to think that they can get away with any damn thing they please. CULTural excuses? Okay, but is CULTure ever a good enough excuse for blatant discrimination? Somehow, I think not.
At any rate, for the first couple of weeks, I also got repeatedly "dongchimed" at the public elementary school I worked at in Pyeongtaek South Korea for a school year of 2012-2013. The first time it happened, I was only in this one particular 4th grade class to observe while the older lady head teacher of the English department actually taught the class.
But gosh, it often does seem that many people in this region seem to think that they can get away with any damn thing they please. CULTural excuses? Okay, but is CULTure ever a good enough excuse for blatant discrimination? Somehow, I think not.
At any rate, for the first couple of weeks, I also got repeatedly "dongchimed" at the public elementary school I worked at in Pyeongtaek South Korea for a school year of 2012-2013. The first time it happened, I was only in this one particular 4th grade class to observe while the older lady head teacher of the English department actually taught the class.
At the end of that 40 minute class, most of the kids just came up to innocently stroke the hair on my arms or stare wide-eyed at the big white monkey man. Because that older lady "head teacher" actually more or less told the mob of 30 odd kids they could come up and manhandle me. Which, of course, they then happily proceeded to do.
But then some of those kids (most of whom were actually quite well behaved) also did all the other annoying-ass things that make many "modern" Asians look like first class mental deficients in today's increasingly global society, where people really should be able to expect that their national differences, and personal space, should be respected at the very least.
Unfortunately however, there was this one particular boy who had his fingers up my ass crack before I even knew what was going on!
Mind you, I did not kill the kid. I didn't scream either. I didn't even say a single bad word or get overly angry. Mostly because I'd dealt with that kind of pathetically offensive bad behavior before. Yes, it'd been a couple years, but at least I had experienced it before. I did strongly tell that particular boy, however, that he really shouldn't do that to me ever again.
Yet still, later on, I caught the kid in the hall, trying to get his fingers up my butt crack yet again! That time however, I was ready for him and quickly spun around so fast that I was able to grab those two fingers and immobilize him that way. I then bent down and stared into his naughty, clearly deviant little brown eyes, and Korean style, visually whipped him into complete submission. Then I simply said very calmly, but as cold as ice, "Do not do that again." And he never did.
However... the bossy "head of the English department" (because she actually was not the head of the English department, but merely the oldest woman in that particular office) later called me into an empty room the next day to needlessly and unfairly berate me. "I don't ever want to see that again!" said the pruny little toad with the usual sparse, kinky, thinning, dyed jet black hair.
However... the bossy "head of the English department" (because she actually was not the head of the English department, but merely the oldest woman in that particular office) later called me into an empty room the next day to needlessly and unfairly berate me. "I don't ever want to see that again!" said the pruny little toad with the usual sparse, kinky, thinning, dyed jet black hair.
She of course had to peer up at me through her squinting eyes (which is not a racial description, so get over your guilt tripping ways for long enough to read on, if you please) and her silly looking, outdated granny glasses, of course. And boy did she have a nasty mouth on her, that woman! Witch with a capital W, me thinks. She didn't even see me grab the kid's hand. Maybe she just wanted me to, well.... you know, the usual...
Take it up the backside without even the benefit of lube, Korean style!
Read that again, if you will. It rhymes! TAKE IT UP THE ASS WITHOUT LUBE WITH A SMILE, ASIAN STYLE! Anyway, she tried to make what happened into a lecture about CULTure. "Will," she began by shaking her head scornfully, "This is Korea. This is our culture. You have to understand us." Uh... no... when it comes to sexual or any other type of harassment, I'm pretty damn sure I don't have to do any such thing. At any rate, I didn't say anything that particular day. Just listened to her, seething with self righteous indignation (both of us, apparently), and kept my trap shut.
But then... one day not all that long after that, I had just arrived at work in the morning. I'd just gotten out of the car and noticed that a group of 4th graders were playing with badminton rackets in the teacher's parking area. When they saw me emerge from the car, they shouted, "Hey!" And I don't know how to put this, but... the way they said it was... kinda creepy. Chilling. Scary even. I could sense that danger was afoot.
Next thing I knew, the little mob of truants was right up on me. I was standing next to the driver's side of the car, about ready to get my stuff out, when a boy jumped in front of me and purposely struck the driver's side window with the sharp edge of the racket. It wasn't shattering hard, so I didn't lose my temper or anything. I told him not to do that. He did it again. I tried to reach out and grab the racket. He maneuvered with typical kid speed and did it again. That time though, he hit the paint job near the window along the top with a resounding thud.
I was really getting pissed at that point, so I more aggressively moved to get the racket off of him. He naturally backed off and held the racket away and as high as he could, just out of my range. As I lunged in that particular direction, a snotty looking girl with pig tails and glasses behind me smacked the driver's side rear window and paint job. At that point, it was really starting to get UNFUNNY as hell because naturally, she was playing the same game as the sneering boy in front of me. I'd lunge in her direction and she'd retreat, holding the racket just beyond reach. At which point, the boy in front would be back to hit the car.
I quickly realized that this would go on and on, and the little crowd that was forming a pint sized semi-circle between the kid in front and the kid behind me, would continue to roar with laughter and sneering glee at the spectacle. Gosh! It must have been 'FUN WITH WHITEY' day! And nobody even thought to send me the memo.
But it was all some big game for them, of course. So... I took bold initiative. I went for the kid in front. I chased his little butt around and around in circles while the others taunted and jeered. I was really infuriated at that point and when he realized I wasn't going to give up, he headed for another part of the parking area. But as he did so, I was able to back him into a corner of the school building. I never could grab at him fast enough to actually catch the racket myself, but I told him repeatedly in very uncompromising terms, to hand the racket over. He finally did, and then I was out of there in a huff.
I went back to the car to get my teachers bag and then took that racket with me upstairs, all the way to the 4th floor teacher's office, where, by the time I got there, I was still furious and huffing and puffing from the strain of the chase (not to mention the exertion of having to climb three floors). A couple of the younger female co-teachers in there asked what was wrong and instantly moved to help me out. However... after I got back from the bathroom, the bossy head case lady had come in and, just as soon as I got through that door, she looked at me and said accusingly, with ridicule just dripping like frigid grease from every single word, "It happened to me too. My car has many scratches."
I was still extremely frazzled at that point and wasn't even sure how to take that comment (since it's not like people in this region are really good at direct communication or anything...) and just kept trying to calm down. But the whole thing was just so incredibly shocking. I was a mess. Soon, another female co-teacher came through the door with the offending boy and was mildly scolding him, her hands resting on his shoulders. He looked worried at that point and I gave him a few choice words when they brought him before me to "apologize." But I was fit to be tied at that point, so I let him have it about how he needed to show a little more respect.
Still couldn't quite calm down from the shock so I ended up in the empty classroom next door, sobbing quietly, pacing and just... in total shock at what had happened. One of the co-teachers, a new girl who is the youngest in the office and has lived abroad and speaks English reasonably well (but not as perfectly as she likes to think or let others think), at first SEEMED to be helpful and supportive, so I thought all would be well.
However... when the bossy boss lady called me into the room again later on to tell me about how "this is Korea, and this is our culture," I was simply livid. I was beside myself with rage and total disbelief. But I tried to keep it under my hat as best I could. UNTIL... that is, a 6th grade girl started smacking me in the halls, on the stairs and even outside when I was trying to cross the street after school. Did she hit really hard? Sometimes, yeah. Did it hurt like the Dickens? No, I can't say that it did leave a mark or anything, but the striking or touching an adult teacher of any sort, was completely inappropriate, and it did sting quite a lot. Sometimes, in fact, it really did hurt.
And even though I told this not so small 6th grade girl repeatedly, in stronger and stronger terms every time she physically struck me, NOT TO DO IT, of course, she continued. In fact, she and a couple of her friends would stop me in the stairwell and block my path up or downwards. The other two would get on either side and the main offending girl would stand uncomfortably close in the middle and smack me repeatedly. Usually on the arms, but sometimes on the shoulder or even across the face. I couldn't even make out most of what she said when she was assaulting me! Again... she was not hitting hard enough to draw blood or even leave a scratch, but the action was nevertheless alarming and... shocking to the point where I couldn't even believe it was happening the first few times. Kids, right?
But there gets to a point where enough is enough. Too damn much even.
I knew it would be hard to prove what was going on between myself and this 6th grade girl and her cronies, and since she would not listen to my repeated attempts to get her to stop, no matter how I changed my tact, tone of voice and approach... I decided to make a plan. Luckily, I didn't have to wait very long. One day, she appeared, walking suddenly alongside of me on my way to the teacher's room. I smiled back at her sneering countenance and waited.
When we got within a yard or so of the door of the teacher's room, I grabbed her by the shoulder and attempted to get her as delicately, but as firmly as I could, into the room to present her to the English department staff for disciplinary action. She wriggled her way out of my grasp just as the teacher's room door was opening up, but I was in mid sentence by then, so I continued to exclaim, "She's the one! This is the girl who keeps hitting me!'
Like I'm so totally stupid that I DON'T know that I shouldn't strike a child in return to address the issue. Sorry, folks, but mama didn't raise no dummy. Imagine if you will, the sight of a white guy hitting a Korean 6th grader. I'd be drawn and quartered! The North and the South of Korea would finally reunite and burn my beloved national flag in the streets! Feeding frenzy would ensue. Centuries of repressed Korean RAGE (from as far back as the centuries of Chinese domination and the 35 brief but painful years of Japanese annexation) would grip the feuding cousins in one common goal: "Let us strike down the foreign devils!"
And most likely, no one would even bother to ask how it all got started.
Luckily, one of the younger female coworkers who is the typical in-house "tiger teacher" (or Korean slang for the harsh, disciplinary teacher - since principals here don't seem to do much but sit around or have meetings anyway) sprang out of her chair and wanted to know which girl it was. It just so happened that the violent girl was on her way to the next classroom down, so all I had to do was take my co-worker in there and point the little truant out. Naturally, the wild eyed offender was sitting there, looking sort of petrified, trying to seem inconspicuous. But I pointed to the girl and asked her directly, at full volume in front of the entire class, why she had been hitting me.
The tiger teacher co-worker had the girl out of the room for brow beating purposes in very short order, so I felt really great. Justice had been done. Of course, I was still quite perplexed by the whole repeated occurrence, but at the very least, I thought... I'd won a little victory for my own sense of dignity. Not so however. Not so at all, it turned out.
Yep. You guessed it. That afternoon, the older lady boss had me in that room once again, and was lecturing me about MY behavior and my assumed ignorance about Korean CULTure. She even said repeatedly, "This is not hitting. I don't think this is hitting." But then...she never did see it happen, did she?
The worst part was, not only was I being dressed down by my supervisor for reporting physical harassment on school grounds, but this time, she had dragged the younger English speaking Korean gal co-worker with her. I was shocked. No privacy at all. No respect for my feelings or basic human rights whatsoever. So I finally lost it. Well, sort of. In fact, I stayed as calm as I could, but would not back down.
I stood my ground and calmly (though admittedly, probably a bit tersely - KOREAN CULTURE BE DAMNED) told her that no reprimand was even necessary. I mean, how could they assume that I was making the whole story up when they hadn't even seen it happen? More than anything though, I was simply flabbergasted that my integrity was being called into question at all! I mean, how dare they?
But in Korea, some people... usually the ones who think they have the right to be outright abusive because of ancient rights of hierarchical passage (and a long, long history of ENSLAVING THEIR OWN PEOPLE), do dare. Oh... they most certainly do dare.
Take it up the backside without even the benefit of lube, Korean style!
Read that again, if you will. It rhymes! TAKE IT UP THE ASS WITHOUT LUBE WITH A SMILE, ASIAN STYLE! Anyway, she tried to make what happened into a lecture about CULTure. "Will," she began by shaking her head scornfully, "This is Korea. This is our culture. You have to understand us." Uh... no... when it comes to sexual or any other type of harassment, I'm pretty damn sure I don't have to do any such thing. At any rate, I didn't say anything that particular day. Just listened to her, seething with self righteous indignation (both of us, apparently), and kept my trap shut.
But then... one day not all that long after that, I had just arrived at work in the morning. I'd just gotten out of the car and noticed that a group of 4th graders were playing with badminton rackets in the teacher's parking area. When they saw me emerge from the car, they shouted, "Hey!" And I don't know how to put this, but... the way they said it was... kinda creepy. Chilling. Scary even. I could sense that danger was afoot.
Next thing I knew, the little mob of truants was right up on me. I was standing next to the driver's side of the car, about ready to get my stuff out, when a boy jumped in front of me and purposely struck the driver's side window with the sharp edge of the racket. It wasn't shattering hard, so I didn't lose my temper or anything. I told him not to do that. He did it again. I tried to reach out and grab the racket. He maneuvered with typical kid speed and did it again. That time though, he hit the paint job near the window along the top with a resounding thud.
I was really getting pissed at that point, so I more aggressively moved to get the racket off of him. He naturally backed off and held the racket away and as high as he could, just out of my range. As I lunged in that particular direction, a snotty looking girl with pig tails and glasses behind me smacked the driver's side rear window and paint job. At that point, it was really starting to get UNFUNNY as hell because naturally, she was playing the same game as the sneering boy in front of me. I'd lunge in her direction and she'd retreat, holding the racket just beyond reach. At which point, the boy in front would be back to hit the car.
I quickly realized that this would go on and on, and the little crowd that was forming a pint sized semi-circle between the kid in front and the kid behind me, would continue to roar with laughter and sneering glee at the spectacle. Gosh! It must have been 'FUN WITH WHITEY' day! And nobody even thought to send me the memo.
But it was all some big game for them, of course. So... I took bold initiative. I went for the kid in front. I chased his little butt around and around in circles while the others taunted and jeered. I was really infuriated at that point and when he realized I wasn't going to give up, he headed for another part of the parking area. But as he did so, I was able to back him into a corner of the school building. I never could grab at him fast enough to actually catch the racket myself, but I told him repeatedly in very uncompromising terms, to hand the racket over. He finally did, and then I was out of there in a huff.
I went back to the car to get my teachers bag and then took that racket with me upstairs, all the way to the 4th floor teacher's office, where, by the time I got there, I was still furious and huffing and puffing from the strain of the chase (not to mention the exertion of having to climb three floors). A couple of the younger female co-teachers in there asked what was wrong and instantly moved to help me out. However... after I got back from the bathroom, the bossy head case lady had come in and, just as soon as I got through that door, she looked at me and said accusingly, with ridicule just dripping like frigid grease from every single word, "It happened to me too. My car has many scratches."
I was still extremely frazzled at that point and wasn't even sure how to take that comment (since it's not like people in this region are really good at direct communication or anything...) and just kept trying to calm down. But the whole thing was just so incredibly shocking. I was a mess. Soon, another female co-teacher came through the door with the offending boy and was mildly scolding him, her hands resting on his shoulders. He looked worried at that point and I gave him a few choice words when they brought him before me to "apologize." But I was fit to be tied at that point, so I let him have it about how he needed to show a little more respect.
Still couldn't quite calm down from the shock so I ended up in the empty classroom next door, sobbing quietly, pacing and just... in total shock at what had happened. One of the co-teachers, a new girl who is the youngest in the office and has lived abroad and speaks English reasonably well (but not as perfectly as she likes to think or let others think), at first SEEMED to be helpful and supportive, so I thought all would be well.
However... when the bossy boss lady called me into the room again later on to tell me about how "this is Korea, and this is our culture," I was simply livid. I was beside myself with rage and total disbelief. But I tried to keep it under my hat as best I could. UNTIL... that is, a 6th grade girl started smacking me in the halls, on the stairs and even outside when I was trying to cross the street after school. Did she hit really hard? Sometimes, yeah. Did it hurt like the Dickens? No, I can't say that it did leave a mark or anything, but the striking or touching an adult teacher of any sort, was completely inappropriate, and it did sting quite a lot. Sometimes, in fact, it really did hurt.
And even though I told this not so small 6th grade girl repeatedly, in stronger and stronger terms every time she physically struck me, NOT TO DO IT, of course, she continued. In fact, she and a couple of her friends would stop me in the stairwell and block my path up or downwards. The other two would get on either side and the main offending girl would stand uncomfortably close in the middle and smack me repeatedly. Usually on the arms, but sometimes on the shoulder or even across the face. I couldn't even make out most of what she said when she was assaulting me! Again... she was not hitting hard enough to draw blood or even leave a scratch, but the action was nevertheless alarming and... shocking to the point where I couldn't even believe it was happening the first few times. Kids, right?
But there gets to a point where enough is enough. Too damn much even.
I knew it would be hard to prove what was going on between myself and this 6th grade girl and her cronies, and since she would not listen to my repeated attempts to get her to stop, no matter how I changed my tact, tone of voice and approach... I decided to make a plan. Luckily, I didn't have to wait very long. One day, she appeared, walking suddenly alongside of me on my way to the teacher's room. I smiled back at her sneering countenance and waited.
When we got within a yard or so of the door of the teacher's room, I grabbed her by the shoulder and attempted to get her as delicately, but as firmly as I could, into the room to present her to the English department staff for disciplinary action. She wriggled her way out of my grasp just as the teacher's room door was opening up, but I was in mid sentence by then, so I continued to exclaim, "She's the one! This is the girl who keeps hitting me!'
Like I'm so totally stupid that I DON'T know that I shouldn't strike a child in return to address the issue. Sorry, folks, but mama didn't raise no dummy. Imagine if you will, the sight of a white guy hitting a Korean 6th grader. I'd be drawn and quartered! The North and the South of Korea would finally reunite and burn my beloved national flag in the streets! Feeding frenzy would ensue. Centuries of repressed Korean RAGE (from as far back as the centuries of Chinese domination and the 35 brief but painful years of Japanese annexation) would grip the feuding cousins in one common goal: "Let us strike down the foreign devils!"
And most likely, no one would even bother to ask how it all got started.
Luckily, one of the younger female coworkers who is the typical in-house "tiger teacher" (or Korean slang for the harsh, disciplinary teacher - since principals here don't seem to do much but sit around or have meetings anyway) sprang out of her chair and wanted to know which girl it was. It just so happened that the violent girl was on her way to the next classroom down, so all I had to do was take my co-worker in there and point the little truant out. Naturally, the wild eyed offender was sitting there, looking sort of petrified, trying to seem inconspicuous. But I pointed to the girl and asked her directly, at full volume in front of the entire class, why she had been hitting me.
The tiger teacher co-worker had the girl out of the room for brow beating purposes in very short order, so I felt really great. Justice had been done. Of course, I was still quite perplexed by the whole repeated occurrence, but at the very least, I thought... I'd won a little victory for my own sense of dignity. Not so however. Not so at all, it turned out.
Yep. You guessed it. That afternoon, the older lady boss had me in that room once again, and was lecturing me about MY behavior and my assumed ignorance about Korean CULTure. She even said repeatedly, "This is not hitting. I don't think this is hitting." But then...she never did see it happen, did she?
The worst part was, not only was I being dressed down by my supervisor for reporting physical harassment on school grounds, but this time, she had dragged the younger English speaking Korean gal co-worker with her. I was shocked. No privacy at all. No respect for my feelings or basic human rights whatsoever. So I finally lost it. Well, sort of. In fact, I stayed as calm as I could, but would not back down.
I stood my ground and calmly (though admittedly, probably a bit tersely - KOREAN CULTURE BE DAMNED) told her that no reprimand was even necessary. I mean, how could they assume that I was making the whole story up when they hadn't even seen it happen? More than anything though, I was simply flabbergasted that my integrity was being called into question at all! I mean, how dare they?
But in Korea, some people... usually the ones who think they have the right to be outright abusive because of ancient rights of hierarchical passage (and a long, long history of ENSLAVING THEIR OWN PEOPLE), do dare. Oh... they most certainly do dare.
