Tomb

Once upon a time, a foreign teacher on a faraway island was singing a silly song to a class of kindergarten students when an employee of the school interrupted his lesson to whisper in his ear a message most urgent.

Alarmed by what he heard, the teacher jumped to his feet, bolted out of the room and was arrested only moments later, but not before heroically jumping from the second storey window of the building into a bush.

Spending the remainder of the day at the police station, the teacher wisely refused to admit to anything and was eventually set free. For you see, it is illegal to teach English to children under six in Taiwan.

Thankfully, the hero of this story is not me. When I heard it, however, I felt oddly encouraged. I had only just arrived in Taiwan on a one-way flight. I had no job, no prospects, no clue what I was getting into and just under $2,000 Cdn. The tale validated the rumour that drove me to take a massive risk: demand for native English speakers is so high that schools will actually break the law to find one.

Like many expat teachers, I came here (with minimal preparation) because I was bent on seeing the world outside of my hometown. Like-minded people tend to work in Korea, Japan and China, but have to find employment before arrival. Taiwan, a relatively little-known niche for teachers, is the opposite. Low living costs make it quite possible, with discipline, to survive on $700 per month. It’s best to budget for two months, though, to allow time for the first paycheque to clear.

Of course, there are catches. To legally live and work in Taiwan you must be a native English speaker with a valid passport from America, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Great Britain or South Africa. You must also hold a bachelor’s degree from a recognized college or university (applied degrees count).

There are ways around this. A woman living in the hostel I first stayed in when I arrived was an Uzbek-Russian travelling with an Israeli passport. She had no post-secondary education. Her English was impeccable, but officially, it was her fifth language. She found work within weeks in a beautiful seaside town — illegally, of course.

Though this kind of story is common, equally so are ones of failure. The fatal flaws of hesitation, laziness and poor judgment sent one of my fellow hostel dwellers home penniless. An extended period of time spent snorting Charley and hitting the bars in Thailand left this man from Oxford desperate for cash. Retreat was not an option, so he used the remains of his chequing account to try his luck in Taiwan.

His odds were good, but he waited too long to sign a contract and ultimately picked the wrong benefactor. He was given five hours of work a week and a flimsy promise of more to come. By the end of his stay, he was living off cereal and Kimchi noodles. I remember he once walked for six hours to sell a handful of paperback novels at a used bookstore. In just under two months, with the help of friends and family, he went home defeated.

As for myself, it was a close call. It took me just a little too long to figure out that money means the same thing in Asia as it does in Canada. Pubs, good restaurants and bright, pretty lights lured me in and drained my bank account, but I was lucky enough to find a good agent that hooked me up with loads of private clients — an excellent, though unsteady, source of tax-free cash. Agents help seekers find what they are looking for. Most specialize in finding full-time employers. Ones that find you tutoring gigs are rare.

Fortunately, one month into my stay, I found easy work at a low-paying, but steady, cram school for adults. With 25 hours a week, most foreigners can expect to save just under $1,000 Cdn per month. With hard work and the right employer, possibly even more.

As for the job itself, I have no lesson plan to speak of, and the school provides limited course material. Even with careful pacing, it is easy to finish a two-hour lesson in just one. Like Mr. Garrison in South Park, I often find myself teaching my students trivial, pop culture-related nonsense. I once managed to kill over 30 minutes explaining to them the premise of Battlestar Galactica: “So, OK. Now, you have the Cylons, right? The Cylons are evil. They killed all the humans but — yes! Question in the back?”

Besides guaranteeing myself a spot in hell, I now spend much of my time plotting my escape from Taipei City. Taiwan has culture, natural beauty, history, nightlife and beaches in good measure — but it’s never first in any of these, giving it the added bonus of not being too touristy.

When Spanish explorers first laid eyes on Taiwan in the 17th century, they called it the Beautiful Island, or Ilha Formosa. After arriving in Taipei one will probably consider the name only half accurate.

Smog, however, can be a clever disguise. Granted, Taipei City is ugly. However, even though the capital’s look is grimy and it is worn by typhoons, the air is dirty enough to make some locals wear surgical masks, and the smell, in places, is bad enough to make you go surgical-mask shopping, much of the island is still formosa. Taiwan is a worthy alternative option for any itinerant English teacher. Just don’t teach kids under six.

Steve Magusiak is a journalist currently working as a language instructor in Taipei City.