That Gut-Wrenching Reality Check

       So I knew the honeymoon phase was over; I had no disillusion of this. But now I've experienced what truly bad days are like away from family, friends, loved ones...hell, any other Southerner for that matter. Completely alone and isolated with absolutely no support system. It's a rough thing to go through and I'm purposely writing this entry days post-aftermath as to not give a terribly scathing diatribe on Korea. I've had time to let the weight of the world that was crashing down on my shoulders get slightly lighter so hopefully this wouldn't just be some angry rant.

      I'll spare the details of the events that took place and instead focus on the larger picture with which I'm having issues...

Working as part of a system that you disagree with is tough.

Having co-workers that initially react too angrily and harshly rather that civilized is tough.

Working somewhere where you aren't supported is tough.

Being in a workplace that is segregated is tough.

Working somewhere where you are constantly undermined is tough.

Working with bosses, co-workers, clients, and students in a language that you can't read, write, or speak is tough.

...should I keep going?

      I know, I know, I know...it's a job. Any and most jobs are terrible. If you're one of the extreme few who gets paid to do what you love, I'm beyond envious. Still, the worst days that we experience are made easier by coming home to the people, places, entertainment, or hobbies that we love. Especially the people. They should raise us up on our bad days rather than having our pissed-offness bring them down to our level. A lesson that I unfortunately learned all too late in life.

     Now imagine that support system - those certain things that fill us with safe-and-sound childlike comfort - being taken away. Not just a little bit away but 7,276 miles and 14 time zones away. It's no fun. So looking back on everything and everyone that's ever meant anything to me, I want to say that I miss you and I'm sorry if I ever took you for granted. I'd suggest you look at those in your life and do the same.

      Here's where I bring it back to Korea. Later that same terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, my school had a surprise raid from immigration officers. They'd been tipped off that there were teachers working illegally and decided to investigate. Here's the thing – there's a lot of illegal things going on, probably at all of the schools. People come into the country illegally or don't have their Visas or their Alien Registration Cards. It's a system that will screw you as the employee, the school as an employer, and itself as the system. To shorten a lengthy story, the officers singled out one girl, made the school buy her a one way ticket home, and she had to show up at the immigration offices the next morning with bags packed. The school hired a lawyer and things worked out; she was able to stay. Maybe he was a good lawyer, maybe immigration just wanted to flex some muscle – who knows? What's my advice to anyone thinking of working in Korea teaching English?

1. Expect to get screwed over. Somehow, someway. If, by some miracle you don't, count your lucky stars. If (or when) you do, you can't be disappointed. I'm still waiting to see $1450 that I'm owed.
2. If you can, come with a significant other or a friend. Having someone there to make those lows not so low and those highs even higher would be invaluable. After 9 or 10 hours of exhausting, tedious work you're going to want someone there to just help you breathe. Not a claustrophobic box of an apartment, not a television that plays the most nonsensical shows in a different language, or books that could contain the markings of a blind man as far as you're concerned.

      If you're fine with that then come on! Live it up and enjoy it. If not, just come visit and until next time, here's to the better days ahead.