Renewal Time . . .
Posted by Andrew | Filed under Living in Korea
Last time, I discussed at some length the new requirements for entry into Korea for prospective E-2 visa holders. By way of an update, here is a mention of the changes which have been put in since I last wrote.
As mentioned previously, a number of new strictures were placed upon potential foreign employees intending to immigrate to Korea for the purpose of teaching English. The reasons were to do with the parents' collective fear of exposing their kids to potential paedophiles (which events since seem to have justified) plus an ever-present irritation of applicants submitting bogus documents, which they would be able to purchase these days over the Internet.
What have the results been? Well, firstly, it was reported last month that some twenty-one applicants from the US had had their applications rejected on the grounds they had, in fact, some sexual violations of some description outstanding on their criminal records – although this begs the question, in my own mind, of why they all seemed to be from the US and not from anywhere else . . .
Secondly, the mandatory requirement for drug testing appears to have been dropped, on the grounds that this was not a function of the hospitals, who do not have the facilities for making tests of this nature routine for thousands of people. I will return to this in a moment.
Thirdly, foreigners who have been established here for an extended period of time (i.e. like Oneself) are not required to provide sealed transcripts, although this requirement may vary between Immigration Offices. My Boss has told me that to renew, I need only the following documents:
* Original Degree certificate;
* copy of signed contract;
* original copy of Criminal Record Certificate (with no outstanding sexual, drug-related or violent offences evident);
* an acceptable Medical Report;
* Passport; and
* for renewals, the original ID Card (because the date of expiry is marked on the back of this at renewal time).
And that's it. Bear in mind that this is for renewing a contract at a private school (hagwon), not a public school, where things are understandably different, although the documentary requirements are not that much greater. But I have been looking at the possibility, and I will be reporting on this eventually.
In fact, I had the medical test two weeks ago. OMIGAHD, MORE STRESS!!! The Boss had arranged to take me there on the Friday morning, but this was deemed inappropriate because we had a "Market Day" (an "open day" where the kids bring in their accumulated good-boy/good-girl coupons, swap them for "hagwon dollars" and then spend these on (mainly) iced lollies, pizza, corn dogs and Coke; I was in charge of the Quiz Room). Unfortunately, the Thursday was no less hectic, as I had to get out of bed, have the medical, zip off to my bank here (where I was having problems with a credit transfer back to my bank in England), then run up the hagwon and prepare for a demonstration lesson, and all of this before some seven lessons and an end-of-level ceremony!
Never let it be said that working in a hagwon is easy . . . even a good one . . .
People have started having their medicals locally (as I discovered that weekend up at the pub) and there do appear to be problems with understanding what the Koreans actually want. Has no-one, I thought, the simple wit here to write it all down and either send it to the person concerned or issue it to them when they go to the hospital, just before it is performed? Or alternatively, should the hagwon owners not receive this and pass it on to those concerned?
Anyway, the whole process takes about an hour, and the biomedical (serological and urological) tests take a few days to complete (this took until the following Wednesday because they straddled the succeeding weekend). In order, the tests are:
1: Blood pressure. They thought that I had high blood pressure but the position I was in when it was taken (i.e. sitting down and wearing a tight belt to keep my trousis up) didn't really help . . . nor did my natural nervousness, because you always think to yourself: "Shit, one screw-up here and I'm on the dole again!!!"
To their credit, however, they checked this a second time to be sure.
2: Hearing. They stick you in a small booth and you put on a pair of headphones, and signal with your hands to show that you can hear in the ear corresponding to the audio channel (left or right). This was OK but the "peep" sound was veeerrrrryyyy quuuuuiiiiiieeet, so listen carefully and don't stand next to a pneumatic drill before you take the medical!
3: Eyesight. I have spoken with a number of people about this and they all say the same thing: the medics should check whether you wear glasses first, because it is aided not unaided eyesight that they want to check! So as I had not known of this, the Boss had to nip off quickly to the car and bring my specs (which were in my bag on the back seat). To make this phase easy to understand, however, there are an upper red line and a lower green line on the chart which helps you to understand immediately whether you have passed or failed . . . but wouldn't it have been better to come in a bit later, when my eyes could actually focus properly, rather than first thing in the morning?
You may also find that the place where you have to stand is marked with the outlines of a pair of flip-flops ("thongs" if you are from Oz! ^_^), which is helpful – if slightly quaint and amusing.
4: X-ray. A chest x-ray is taken. You may have to wait a while to go in but this process takes only a minute thereafter.
5: Serological. A small blood sample is taken for the serological testing. I was an absolute pincushion as a small boy, so this troubled me not at all.
6: Urological. You are issued with a small paper cup and from this (in the appropriate gender relief room), you dispense a quantity into each of two plastic vials, and close the tops. You then place these in a rack back in the urology clinic.
However, don't enter the place with too much trepidation, because the people who work in the various departments often speak quite good English, and can communiate what they need you to do.
When the thing came back, it was obvious that a lifestyle change was required. Less booze, less carbohydrate and fat; more exercise. A difficult thing, perhaps, for someone who has trouble sleeping at night (a common problem for foreigners here) and often struggles to get out of bed in the morning – and has a workload which may entail a taxi to work rather than walking! And the lifestyle of the average Hagwon Joe (or Joanne) doesn't necessarily help.
I suppose the Korean authorities were right to insist upon annual medical checks, not just for their own sake but also as a signal to the foreigners to booze less and take better care of their bodies; you would expect identical treatment in Taiwan or China, for example.
For people like myself, on the other hand, who are not completely new and have, in fact, been established here for quite a while, these things are apparently intended simply to be formalities. The fact is that if you have committed any crimes here, it will be on record and the immigration authorities can access this information from a national database, just as the Metropolitan Police back in England can when I send a request for "Subject Access" back to my local constabulary in the UK. The documentation does not really change, you just have to show that you are OK and provided that back home, you were not classed as a serious criminal, there is no problem.
One thing I had not heard about until after the medical was that samples given for medical testing would be retained for a "DNA database" of the type also being set up back in the UK. For the life of me, I cannot see the point of this unless people actually commit some offence where DNA investigations become important; and it's all at the public expense, of course.
The announcement that the immigration authorities had decided not to push ahead with mandatory drug testing was greeted with great – if not necessarily very rational – relief. One Canadian friend here heard about it from me for the first time last month, after I had read about it at the "Korea Herald's" English pages.
"Ohhh, MAAAANNNN!!! Am I glad to hear THAT!!! I used to LIVE on weed back in Canada!"
Now the fun set in as something didn't quite strike me as right here: "Err . . . how long have you been here, now?"
"Nine months," he replied.
At which juncture, I tried to point out to him that if he hadn't smoked the stuff since leaving the Great White North, tests here in Korea would be unlikely to detect any residual tetrahydrocannabinol – or anything else, for that matter. But it just goes to show how irrational peoples' fears can be, and I should know.
So, that seems to be the whole of it. I have checked repeatedly with my Boss to make absolutely sure that I have all of the correct documents for submission, and he will do the dirty deed this Tuesday, this time in my absence.
And so we progress, finally, into my sixth year here in South Korea. My mere presence here surprises me, as originally I had intended to go to Japan instead. I arrived here not knowing whether I would be here three months later, because I had had so much trouble trying to establish myself in Taiwan – where, in fact, I would have been very happy to stay with my little school kids until I dropped dead.
And if you were to ask my exactly why I might be inclined to stay even longer, I might say something like: "Just as with the little kids in Taiwan, so it has proven here, too." When you are with little people for a long time, you build up a reservoir of affection and it becomes extremely difficult and painful to leave, as if, perhaps, you were "dying" (see the books of Carlos Castaneda for Don Juan Matus's sorceristic definition of "dying") and you knew that you would never see them again, know how their lives changed for better or worse, or even whether they ended up dead, and whether any action on your part might have prevented their misfortunes.
It was very, very emotionally painful to leave my little kids in Taiwan. I think this is mainly because I had never had kids of my own – indeed, never really harboured any desire to have them at all. So the little Taiwanese kids, these offspring of other parents, became like "substitute children" for me, and they always referred to me as "Andrew Bobo" – "Uncle Andrew". That was a new experience, and I now find that it would be difficult to leave the hagwon after so many years because I have had the same kind of relationship with similar kids here.
So the renewal of contract brings mixed feelings when it swings around each year. Feelings which time does not diminish.
And so life continues in the Land of Morning Calm.
Tags: Korea
