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How to do a “demo” in Taiwan

2 Jun

Every once in a while you’re number gets called. Today was that day for me.

The ol’ demo. Nobody likes to do it– nobody normal, at least. But every blue moon, you get called to the front of the stage and you gotta shake that money-maker. You gotta dance, monkey, dance!

After all, these schools don’t pay you to teach. They pay you to be white, and young, and energetic. They pay you for your profitability, your ability to be sold to the public. You’re a gimmick, a marketing tool.

And if Ramses doesn’t like you, you’re in trouble.

So dance, monkey, dance!

Riding scooter in Taiwan: “The Tainan Left”

22 Oct

Some Tainan moves just wouldn't fly in Taipei.

I’m a big fan of lax driving regulations and road rule enforcement.

That’s right, I said it.

My parents still remind me of when a grade school teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. My response, “A policeman’s best friend.” Unsure of my point, the teacher assumed I meant police officer. She asked me why I added the friend part. My reply, “So I don’t get speeding tickets like my dad.”

So maybe it came from my old man. As a matter of fact, both of my parents are speed demons. The family has this insane competition of “setting record times” on road trips to visit family. I’m pretty sure my NH to NJ in 3.5 hours is still standing.

Well, on this side of the globe, China and Taiwan in particular, road rules are treated more as suggestions…. and that’s exactly how it should be.

I mean, come on. How many times have you come to a red light in the middle of the night, well-lit intersection, stopped, looked around, no cars. And still you sit there and wait. And wait. And wait. I mean, it’s asinine.

When I’m driving in the States, I’m at a heightened sense of paranoia. I’m all over the mirrors. I’ve got all sorts of strategies to spot cops. Gotta be wary of emergency crossovers in the median. Gotta double check on-ramps in the rear-view. Just gotta cover all your bases, because in the good ol’ US-of-A cops are a problem. Traffic cops in particular. They are there to ruin your day.

Believe me when I say, there is no greater satisfaction that spotting a cop perched behind an overpass and locking up the brakes to drop to 9 over, just in time to avoid his radar, cruising past, enduring that 30 seconds of “Am I fucked or not?” and then realizing you escaped justice once more! Yes, villian that I am, 80mph in a 65 or whatever. Maniac.

Now, Tainan has to be my favorite place to drive that I have ever lived– and wait– let me say this to all the people who are going to get all paranoid about driving without heeding every regulation: Here is what you don’t understand, driving in a less-enforced road environment is actually safer.

Now, I may not have the stats to back that up. And, yes, I have seen my fair share of gory accidents here– but that isn’t to say they don’t exist in the States or elsewhere. Think of it like the no speed-limit sections of the Autobahn– you don’t hear people bitching about them all the time.

So, here in Tainan, I am free as a bird. I routinely run red lights and make illegal lefts– directly in front of police officers. They don’t care. As long as it was in “good taste,” you know, not something outrageous, they are all for it. Honk and wave, maybe even, as you pass.

How lax is the driving in Tainan? Well, red lights are optional. There is no such thing as a “no turn on red.” Speed limits are optional. Scooter-restricted lanes are optional. There are very few speed/red light cameras (at least none to my knowledge.) And you’d be surprised how incredibly convenient these non-rules are.

Now, getting to the bread-and-butter here, I want to talk about a term I am pretty sure I have invented: “The Tainan Left.”

It’s one of my favorite moves, and this is how it works.

You see, in Taiwan, in an effort to protect scooter drivers, we are required to make “box turns” at almost every intersection. This means, no left turns. If we want to turn left, we proceed halfway through the intersections, then stop in a designated box on the right in the direction of our intended turn. Ya falla? Back to the Tainan Left.

A Tainan Left works like this: rather than simply (and dangerously) trying to either ignore the box left rule by “shooting the gap” (just turning anyway) or “jumping the gun” (shooting the gap as the light is about to turn green), you totally flip the odds in your favor.

As you notice a light turning red (or even not) in an upcoming intersection, as long as there are no cars coming at that time, you cross the double yellow and start driving on the side of the far-side of the road against traffic. Most advisable is doing this about 100ft or 30m from the intended turn. So you preemptively cross the double yellow (GWB would love this move), then while the perpendicular traffic is still stopped at their light, you simply cruise past and take your left.

Or, if you do this as your light is about to turn red (be careful for perpendiculat traffic turning right), you simply wait at the corner for a few, and as your light turns green, you hop out and take your turn, thus avoiding a potential 90-second wait in the box.

You get it?

And don’t think I am the only practitioner of this move. Far from it. This is learned behavior.

I call it the Tainan Left because it is modus operandi around here.  A rule of the streets, if you will.

Enjoy.

P.S. Mom, I hope you didn’t read this. Trust me, I am being safe and “making smart choices,” ok?

No one does kindergarten graduation ceremonies like Taiwan

26 Jul

The backdrop I painted for my segment of the show.

After two months of writing, choreographing, memorizing, rehearsing, and designing our graduation show, the Class of 2011 has officially moved on to the real-world of 1st grade.

My school held it’s two-and-a-half hour show last Friday. Part concert, part musical, part dance performance, we had it all. I was blown away by what the other teachers had prepared, not to mention amazed by how well the children pulled it off.

Over-the-top, elaborate kindy grad ceremonies are an essential part of the business model in Taiwan’s private education industry. Almost anyone teaching in Taiwan has been a part of one of these shows.

Our show included kids all the way from our 幼幼班 baby class to our 大班 big class. We started off with an acrobatic performance, and just never took the foot off the gas.

Diamond and her little sister Sweet, two of the smartest little kids I've ever taught. Diamond had my entire script memorized before I did.

We had kids in make-up. Kids in wardrobe. Kids running the pyrotechnics. Well, almost. We had an adult on that. But we had video montages. Goodie-bags. Enough costume changes to unsettle Siegfried and Roy. You name it.

My class absolutely nailed my kiddie-version of Grease (moral: boys and girls can be friends in school). I couldn’t have been more proud. I’ll try to get some more pics or a link to the video up soon. Just trust in the fact that it was awesome.

Without a doubt, it was the highlight of the year. Parents were amazed, and anytime you have parents happy, you’re making money in Taiwan.

Not-so welcome back

13 Jul

And to think... a couple days ago I was with my family on the deck at our lake house sipping Scotch and watching the sunset over the White Mountains.

I’m back in Taiwan and basically paralyzed from the waist down. Somehow, at the tender age of 28, I’ve managed to pick up a knack for tossing my back out while doing practically nothing. Worst of all, this stinging sensation is just one of many recent pains.

I got home two nights ago around 11pm and found that my neighbors, Good Samaritans they are, decided not to help me water my plants. It wasn’t really a shock, considering the plants had it coming to them. I’m an agricultural serial killer.

So, yeah, the plant thing didn’t really bother me. But then all the other things that I hadn’t really noticed or thought about before leaving started to soak in. Like shower gel, or bath soap, or whatever it’s called now. My lather-creater was empty. Found that out as I was trying to wash 18-hours on a plane worth of other people’s dead skin and fart molecules off myself. Empty.

In fact, my whole house had this eerie Goldilocks feel to it. Did I really leave it like this? I kept asking myself. Maybe so. Maybe I did leave that one peach on the table. Or maybe not.

Day two starts off with a bang. Turns out my scooter, my darling dearest don’t-know-what-I-was-thinking-buying-such-a-nice scooter, must have been knocked over (again) while I was gone. I doubt anyone would try to steal it, since I had enough locks on it to scare Houdini. But I am sure the blaring alarm finally pissed someone off after sitting there for almost four weeks.

I would have thought nothing of it, too, except for when I went to pop the seat and found it completely empty. No helmets, no rain gear– they even took my fluorescent pink and yellow winter gloves. I mean, damn. (Seats sometimes pop open when a scooter falls.)

So, now I’m stuck. No helmet. No helmet stores around. It’s 8:45am. No helmet stores open. After scrambling around like an idiot, I walk into my downstairs 7-11, where it’s like Cheers, to ask one of the dudes behind the counter if I can borrow his. He’s a nice guy and let’s me take it for the morning.

Then I get to school and the head teacher is all over me about the upcoming graduation play… for our kindergartners. For those who don’t know, it’s a big thing here in Taiwan. I’ve revamped and personalized a version of Grease for my class, condensed down to about 7 minutes and minus all sexual innuendo. I’m pretty pleased with it, and the kids know it by heart. But, because my school is too cheap to spend the extra couple NT to rent wireless mics, we have to record it and then have the kids mime the play. Yeah, kindergartners going all Duran Duran up on stage. It always ends in disarray, with one kid just way off and a whole lot of confusion following suit. Poor little guys.

On top of this, my boss/manager/friend/peer tells me that they love me so much they want me working afternoon hours next semester… or I will have to find another job. They want me to quit my 18hr/wk job that gives me an ARC to work 16hrs/wk for them without the visa. Ummm….?

I leave there, riding home for lunch. Foooooof! 7-11 Dude’s crappy old helmet manually unlatches itself and flies off my head going over a bridge. Bridges are death traps on scooters. They’re two-scooter-wide straightaways that young punks treat like F1 tracks. I have to pull over to the side, narrowly avoiding certain death, throw my scooter on its kick stand in the middle of the road, then sprint through traffic picking up the pieces of 7-11 Dude’s mangled helmet. Awesome.

I get home. I find out my afternoon school is in total disarray per usual and has not scheduled me for any hours this week. Awesome. I’m broke(ish). Awesome.

I go over to the school to talk about it. Boss isn’t around when she said she would be. Check. Really on a roll now.

Day three. Head to school, all is going well. I stay during and after lunch, dedicated teacher I am, working on the kids’ background for the play. It’s cool; it’s coming out well. I’m on the ground crawling all around, bent at all odd angles. My Taiwanese co-teachers are chatting idly behind me about what type of tea they want to order. Do I want a tea? Would I like some tasty refreshment while I am squirming around on the floor getting all Bob Ross on a flattened out fridge box? Well, damned if they care.

3 o’clock rolls around and I am at a good stopping point. I decide to call it a day, head home… in the hurricane. Yes, a hurricane arrived during lunch, well after I would have already been home. So, there I was, driving back over that damned bridge in my new helmet and new rain jacket, once again trying to cheat death on my two-wheeled chariot-to-the-afterlife.

I make it home. No keys. Keys are at work. But of course they are. So, I’m back on the scooter. More rain. Rain in my face. Rain down the back of my neck. So much damn rain that it is actually seeping through this new thick plastic raincoat– which I didn’t even really know was possible. It’s working it’s way past the elastic, up my sleeves to my elbow. I am reminded of the old Shel Silverstein poem, “O gee, it’s up to my knee. Oh my, it’s up to my thigh.” Except this was water and not a snake and all the water was slowly making it’s way down to the areas you never want puddles.

“Oh heck, it’s up to my neck.”

How Kids Should Act in the US, China & Taiwan

29 Mar

This was the certificate of merit given out to the top student in my class last semester. It reads: "Arhiehbement Dertificate."

I stumbled upon this Ministry of Tofu post about elementary school discipline codes a few days ago. The original post had garnered so much attention on microblogs in China that it was eventually picked up by Sina. It laid out the contrast as follows:

Disciplines of a U.S. elementary school

1. Always refer to a teacher by title and last name.
2. Get to class on time or a little earlier.
3. Raise your hand when you want to ask a question.
4. You may speak to the teacher from your desk while you are seated.
5. When you are absent, you must make up the work you have missed. Ask either the teacher or a classmate for the work.
6. If you expect to be away from school because of an emergency, tell your teacher in advance and ask for the work you will miss.
7. All assignments you hand in must be your own work.
8. Never cheat on a test.
9. If you are having difficulty with a class, schedule an appointment to see the teacher for help. The teacher will be glad to help you.
10.Students must bring a note for a parent explaining any absence or tardiness.
11.The only acceptable excuse for absence is personal illness, a death in the family, or a religious holiday. It is illegal to stay home from school for any other.
12.When a teacher asks a question and does not name a particular student to answer it, anyone who knows the answer should raise one hand.

Chinese disciplines for elementary school students

1, Have deep love for your motherland, for the people, and for the Communist Party of China.
2, Abide by laws and rules. Improve understanding of laws. Abide by school rules and disciplines. Act in line with social morality.
3, Have passion for sciences. Work hard on study. Think diligently and have a questioning mind. Be fond of exploration. Participate vigorously in activities that build social experience and/or are beneficial.
4, Love life. Protect yourself. Do physical exercises. Pay attention to hygiene.
5, Respect and love yourself. Be confident and strong. Keep civilized and healthy living habits.
6, Engage in labor. Be frugal and pristine. Depend on yourself to do things you are capable of.
7, Be filial to your parents. Respect your teacher. Be polite to others.
8, Have deep love for the group you are in. United with your classmates. Help one another. Care about others.
9, Be honest and trustworthy. Match your words with your deeds. Correct your mistakes once you are aware of it. Be responsible.
10, Love nature. Take good care of you living environment.
Loved it. But the China version doesn’t ring true here in Taiwan. So, I jotted down some quick ideas for my own code of conduct in Taiwan buxibans.
Code of Conduct for Taiwan Buxibans
1. Students should always call the teacher “Teacher”, as in sentences like, “Yesterday, I didn’t see Teacher.”
2. If a student knows an answer to a question, scream out for attention, i.e. “Teacher meeeeeeeeeeee!”
3. If that student does not get the teacher’s attention, he or she should continue to call out “Teacher… teacher… teacher.. teacherrrrrrr” and so on, forever.
4. Food should always be served cold.
5. Water should always be hot.
6. Tiger balm should be applied to all skin irritations.
7. Students cannot receive a grade lower than 80 on any homework, assignment, or test, even if it is unfinished or all wrong.
8. If a student doesn’t understand something, move on to the next, more advanced lesson.
9. Parents are always the best judge of how smart their child is.
10. Test scores are always the best judge of how good the school is.
Did I miss anything, fellow Taiwan buxibaners?

 

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