Taiwan Teaching Part 3: Celebrity Status

This may be the most challenging blog I write because it is deeply personal.  In a sense, Taiwan messed with my head, and when I returned to the United States in 2007 I was not the same person I was when I left; anyone close to me knows that I talk about it far too often.  It is a place that will not leave me.  And I am grateful for that.  If I were to explain my experience there in a few words, I would say this: The Taiwanese people treated me like I was a celebrity, and it took me five years to understand why. 

White Privilege:
I will never forget the afternoon when my friends and I decided to take a scooter ride from Jhongli to the beaches nearby.  That day started with sunshine and sand and ended with a gangster and - what seemed to be - exotic dancers.

After a thirty minute ride, Mike, Tim, Sarah and I, all roommates, pulled our scooters into the parking lot overlooking the beachfront.  We hopped off and set up our slack-line (a core exercise workout akin to tight-rope walking) between two cement pylons on the beach.  We began walking across the slack-line and before long we had a small crowd of Taiwanese onlookers.  The kids in the group looked like they wanted to try walking it, so one by one we lifted them up and supported them as they took sheepish steps across the nylon. 

After entertaining our Taiwanese crowd for a while, it was time to pack up our circus act and go home.  We walked over to a Water Man standing beside his pick-up truck with a large water tank strapped to the cab.  The Water Man at Taiwanese beaches is like a foot-washing hose or shower on American beaches, except a water man charges a small fee for the service.  This particular Water Man had had set up shop alongside the beach vendors, and in typical fashion charged a few cents for washing after a long day of playing in the sand.  We approached the tank and asked the Water Man how much it cost to wash off.  In broken English, he told us we didn't have to pay.  Given that we were somewhat accustomed to freebees offered to westerners in Taiwan, we politely thanked the man the proceeded to wash our feet.  Then, we had a brief conversation about American; then, the Water Man escorted us over to a food stall and bought us all a hot-dog on a stick; then, we walked to another food stall, where the Water Man bought us all mocha coffees; then, he packed up his truck and told us to follow him; then we followed him to a restaurant, sat down and ate a meal of rice, soup, and duck; then, the Water Man paid for the meal; and then, he begged us to come to his "restaurant" where, he said, we would receive free drinks and entertainment. 

Something was up.  Mike, Tim and I noticed that the Water Man didn't seem to exchange much actual cash with the vendors he was parading us to.  In fact, I don't recall any money changing hands at the duck restaurant. 

Mike, Tim and I singing Hey Jude

But despite our growing concerns about the Water Man, this whole episode - the free wash, the free snacks, coffee, and dinner - was becoming an entirely on-the-house evening of entertainment.  So we accepted and followed the Water Man to his "restaurant". 

We entered the restaurant and were ushered to a booth in the back of the hall, past men in dark suits smoking cigarettes.  Then the "waitresses" brought us food and drinks, which were again on the house.  Large bottles of beer and liquor, trays of fruits and vegetables.  The Water Man, all the while, was talking to us, seemingly keeping us around to practice his English.  As it turned out, the Water Man's restaurant was more of a karaoke bar, and he invited us to go on stage and sing a song, which we obliged to do, thumbing through the song book and settling on The Beatles 'Hey Jude'. 

We returned to the table, and the Water Man rolled up his pant legs and showed us the tattoos on his thigh.

"Me used to be bad," he said as he made a gun with his thumb and index finger, "but now, me good."  His gun transformed into two big thumbs up and a wide smile.

This was not good. 

By this time, the "waitresses" had joined us at the table, and they were getting a little too comfortable, inching closer and closer to us as the night wore on, wedging themselves between Tim and I.  All of the sudden, the Water Man grabbed one of the waitresses' chest, looked at us and said, "This okay!"  His hand moved south, and he grabbed her between the legs, "This not okay," he marked with a smile.

That's when it hit me: this was no restaurant.  Indeed, this was no karaoke bar either.  It seemed like this was some sort of exotic club - hence, all the guys in suits, save for the waitresses - and we had just been given carte blanche to the evening's entertainment.

At the Water Man's "Restaurant".  I blurred the faces to
protect my friend's identities

Something of a good ol' boy with many God fearing values, not accustomed to the sort of recreational activities the Water Man was offering, I wanted out, and it seemed like Mike, Tim and Sarah felt the same way too.  We politely yawned and stretched our hands in the air, signaling our tiredness and our intent to leave.  We told the Water Man we had to go, but he would have nothing of it.  He told us to stay.  So indignant was he that we felt compelled to devise an escape plan.  One by one, we covertly snuck to the bathroom and vamoosed through the rear entryway.

I tell this story to conclude my series on teaching English in Taiwan because in many respects it illuminates the research of sociologist Pei-Chia Lan: "White Privileges, Language Capital, and Cultural Ghettoization" (Which you can access for free - a $30 research article - if you click on the link mid way down the page on Pei-Chia Lan's website).

To the Water Man, we were cosmopolitan.  Hip.  English teachers that represented a rich, sexy way of life glamorized by Hollywood, and it made him look GQ to show up around town with us in tote.  In addition to making him look cool, he got to practice English.

Based on my experiences, interviews with colleagues who taught English in Taiwan and on the research of renowned sociologist Pei-Chia Lan, I will boil down the westerners place in Taiwanese society into some key principles.  If you reflect on these principles before, during, and after you teach English in Taiwan, I believe they will help you understand your time there and make it more meaningful.

Taiwan Teaching Principles:

1.  There is a hierarchy of English teachers.  International/Graduate School teachers are at the top; cram-school teachers are at the bottom.   In some cases, there is an elitism that international/graduate school teachers have.  They may not even want to mingle with cram-school teachers, and they may even find them an altogether different, subordinate breed.  That said, both types of teachers benefit socially and financially from being English speaking westerners.

2.  Taiwanese view Westerners - particularly white westerners - as cosmopolitan.  Don't be surprised if business men, doctors, or other upper-class Taiwanese befriend you.  It's uppity to have western English speaking friends; hence, the Water Man's interest in us.

3.  It's easier for western men to meet and date Taiwanese women than for western women to meet and date Taiwanese men.  Excluding our encounter with the waitresses at the Water Man's bar, it was fairly common for Taiwanese women to approach me while I was out with friends.  So much so, in fact, that when I first returned to America I was shocked that I had to make any effort at all to meet women.  Moreover, in Jimmie Collin's blog "Texan in Taiwan" she - a white American woman - notes that western men didn't pay any attention to her; they were too absorbed with Taiwanese women.

4.  Westerns may experience a cultural isolation, which Pei-Chia Lan's calls 'ghettoization'.  She compares a westerners cultural isolation in Taiwan to that of a Chinese restaurant owners cultural isolation in America.  Once an Asian operates a Chinese restaurant in America, he or she is somewhat isolated occupationally and socially to being a Chinese restaurant operator.  In other words, there is not much room to get a promotion or move up the social ladder once one is pigeon holed into a job where ethnicity is so definitively connected to a specific occupation.  Be warned, once you take a job as an ESL teacher in Taiwan, that's likely the end of the road.  There is very little room for promotion in society: albeit, the status of an English speaking westerner in Taiwan is pretty elevated to begin with.

Hopefully the story and the advice I sheds some light on the experience of teaching English in Taiwan.  As I have previously stated, I highly recommend it.  Asia-Pacific, specifically Taiwan, is the most beautiful part of this globe; and for the westerner, it's life repackaged.  Go.  See it for yourself.  And as always, e-mail me if you have questions or comments.