Outlaw Preschool Teacher
My realization I was in ESL hell
The door to the classroom slammed open and the school nurse lunged inside and shouted,
“Go Go Go”
Then took off from the entrance of my classroom to the next. Confused, I continued to sing the alphabet song. My motley crew of toddlers half-assedly sang along.
Before I got to “LMNOP” the door swung open again and she shouted,
“Josh, come with me!”
She doesn’t know how to speak English. This must be serious. The students didn’t notice as my assistant teacher subtly took my place chanting,
“Now I know my ABC's.”
Meanwhile, I am walking briskly to the door of the classroom.
We hit the hallway, and I can see the backs of my fellow foreign teachers running for the back exit. I follow suit and we are in the backyard. Once there we go to the gate and up and over.
“What is going on?” I exclaimed.
“The education bureau is here.” My coworker says frantically.
“So, Why the hell are we running for our lives?”
“The school doesn’t have a license.”
A few months prior
I climbed down the gangway of my ship with no intention of returning anytime soon. My Captain asked when I would be back and I said, “I don’t know.”
My gut knew.
My wife and I wanted to be together. Long distance had taken a toll on both of us.
We made a plan. I saved every penny from my last hitch and was going to stay with her as long as I could without running out of money.
Beach bum university
The first leg of the journey led me back to Turkey, where we got married. At the time China required their own vaccine for Visa approval. As a merchant mariner, or should I say, vaccine whoopie cushion I have grown complacent towards frequent shots.
We still had our Turkish residences and that entitled me to receive vaccines through their healthcare system. I flew to Fitheye and beach bummed for a month waiting for both rounds of shots.
While there, I wanted to do something online to make money. I kept obsessing about blogging but my wife insisted that I wouldn’t make any money doing it. She said the best paying job in China for foreigners is preschool teaching.
I am a dirty, rotten, line cook that became a sailor. I have tattoos all over my right arm and I cuss as much as appropriate for the above mentioned jobs. I thought it impossible to polish myself enough to spend everyday with preschoolers.
She insisted.
A few times before, I did not take her advice to our financial detriment. Once, She demanded that I buy 10 bitcoins when the price dipped to 3k. I thought that was a risky idea and ignored her. When they hit 60k I realized that my wife has the Midas touch.
From then on I decided that if she suggests something, its probably a great idea because she is much smarter than me.
She insisted I get my TEFL certificate. I signed up for an online TEFL course and everyday I sat at a cafe on Calic Beach and went to school.
The day I finished the course, she immediately got me an interview at a preschool near our home. She insisted they would hire me regardless of experience.
I spent everyday beach bumming in Turkey and developed a nice tan. She photoshopped it out because they prefer lighter skin.
She was right, they hired me. She’s always right.
Prank the new guy
One day, the foreign teachers tell me that if the police show up I have to run. I come from a strict career that requires absolute compliance to every regulation. You have to figuratively and literally jump through hoops to go to sea.
“You’re fucking with me. Trying to trick the new guy into making an ass of himself.”
They insisted they weren’t and stressed the importance of preparation for inevitable escapes.
A few weeks went by and it was business as usual. Until the first time we received a visit from the education bureau. We all made our daring escape and the reality set in.
Greasing the gears
There are gray areas in the laws in China and schools open without permission. They pay-off the government at whatever level they need to and in turn the government turns an almost blind eye.
The local bureaucrats occasionally make the rounds to receive “hongbao” protection money. They don’t want to catch foreigners at the school, but if they see us they have to process us because its all on camera. They could lose their jobs if they spot a foreigner working “illegally” and fail to act on it.
Hence the eternal dance of bureaucrat through the front door and foreigner out the back.
Unsustainable
One day, during outdoor time, they graced us with a visit. My phone was in the classroom and all the other teachers were upstairs. I went into the back yard and hid under some rubbish.
Rubbish: a word I’ve picked up from my UK colleagues meaning trash
Trapped, the only way out was over the back fence. The back fence was 20 ft tall (6 meters) with spikes on top.
I am weighing my options: sit here under this trash pile forgotten, never knowing when it’s safe to return and risk being trapped if they come into the backyard or climb the fence.
If caught you get a mark on your record and when you re-apply for your visa they might not renew it.
My ascent
I used the corner of the fence to create leverage. I made it to the top of the fence and looked down. Luckily, the ground on the other side of the fence was only about 3 meters away.
I needed to get over the spikes, and down.
All along the base of the fence was a hedge bush. Once over the fence I lowered myself as far as I could and collapsed into the hedge. Rolled out into the walkway in the apartment complex. Attempting to walk it off and be as subtle as a white guy falling into the bushes could.
Three ladies walked by with the most confused look on their faces. Here I am, a wai gua ren, rolling out the bushes with leaves and branches sticking out of my clothes.
My Murtaugh moment
This was the first time in my 39 years of life I thought to myself,
“I’m too old for this shit”
At the peak of the spiked fence, I felt my age and size. I am not that kid anymore. One slip and I would fall 20 meters to a concrete in a forgotten corner of the school.
I began looking for “legal” work that day.
The pay is less but I do not have to run for my life 2 or 3 times a month.