bbiverson.com
The ideas, people, places, and things of my life.

I’m ashamed to admit that the majority of posts I’ve made in this weblog have been of a negative nature. That was not my intent, but obviously is a window into what actually motivates me. Those who are close to me would tell you that I’m not a negative person on the whole, although I do tend to have a problem with self-esteem, but that I tend to over-analyze things. I am a worrier, through-and-through. You could consider this tending toward pessimism, but I look at it more as being realistic.

One by-product of this “accentuating the negative” approach to writing on my weblog is that I have left out many precious and joyful experiences in my life. These “Kodak moments” are cherished by me, emblazoned in my mind for eternity. However, I have neglected to share them with you, the reader. For this, I wholeheartedly apologize. I vow to make a concerted effort to go back and fill in the gaps of my history with those more-positive happenings.

One such omission, and perhaps the greatest neglect I have made thus far, is the experience I had with my first wife, Tara. I did archive the events that led up to my union with Tara, but I approached them from the position of a spurned ex-husband, which is what I was at the time of writing about them. (And, frankly, still am to an extent.) But what resulted in a marriage between Tara and me wasn’t just a happenstance. It wasn’t merely an outcome produced from some random intimate tryst. True, our initial meeting was expected to be a one-nighter by both of us, but the events that followed were more common with how most couples fall in love.

Please understand that I am writing this twenty years after-the-fact and my memory isn’t completely clear as to the order of the events that took place. I am sure of one thing, though. Tara and I fell in love. Initially, as I recall, I was working at Osco drugstore in Orem, Utah, while attending Utah Valley Community College over the summer. Tara was working at McDonald’s in Provo, Utah, while attending UVCC, too. After our first union, which I have written about elsewhere in an archived post predated to the time of the event, I approached Tara and asked her to go with me on a date.

We went on a picnic, hiking a bit up one of the nearby canyons. We hit it off quickly, talking for what seemed like several hours about our lives, our aspirations, and our dreams. We were two peas-in-a-pod, Tara and I, for we seldom disagreed and never argued. There were other dates that followed, hiking in other canyons, visits to Lagoon (an amusement park), and several dinner-and-movie dates. We were, in most respects, a normal couple falling in love, albeit at a very quick pace.

For me, it was love at first sight. I was enamored with her vibrant personality. Her smile comforted me. The way she laughed at my corny jokes made me feel like a million bucks. In addition to that, Tara was very flirtatious. She had a way about her that every woman could learn from. She wasn’t overbearing with it, she just had looks, and touches, and moves that were simply magnetizing. I found myself quickly falling in love with her. In fact, there was nothing confrontational about our relationship.
I found myself doing things for Tara that I’d never done for a girl before. During our courtship, I moved from the complex where Tara and I had met to a condominium near to Brigham Young University, and attended school there. Whenever Tara visited me, I went around the condo making sure everything was clean and organized. I spent more time grooming myself, before seeing Tara, than I had ever done previously. Also, I actually cooked for her on a couple of occasions, which is something I’d never done before!

Tara and I were very affectionate toward one another. We walked about; arm-in-arm, holding hands and staring at one another like there were no other people in the world. We had different likes and dislikes, but we accepted that. Our conversations were fluid and we accepted and validated each other’s opinions, without accusatory judgment.

Because Tara and I are Mormons, we shared guilt about having pre-marital sex. That is something which is contrary to the doctrine of our Church, and something that prohibits a couple from being married in a Mormon temple. Our relationship was getting to the point where the prospect of marriage was being thought about. Consequently, we decided together to make an attempt to quit having sex until when (and if) we got married.

It was around this time that Tara and I both began working for NICE Corporation, an outbound telemarketing firm. For the most part, we shared the same shift hours, while continuing to attend school. Therefore, we spent a lot of time together. Our commitment to not having sex grew increasingly difficult. Some nights, we actually slept together, while not engaging in sex. The situation of us spending so much time together, coupled with the fact that we had a past of having frequent sex, made it unbearable for us to continue our vow of chastity.

During the period that we abstained from sex, Tara went off of the birth control. The thinking was that she had no need to take it, for there was not going to be any sexual activity taking place. When we found ourselves having sex again, it was an unplanned occurrence and we didn’t even use a condom. What we did do was the pullout method. Now, let me tell you that the pullout method definitely doesn’t work, for I have had three children using that method. But at the time, it seemed like a good idea, horny as we both were.

Once we began having sex again, we didn’t stop. In fact, the frequency was greater than before. We often cut dates short, or left social gatherings, so that we could engage in intimacy. Up until that time, I had never experienced such a passionate relationship as the one I was experiencing with Tara. It certainly seemed like nirvana to me. We were so in love with each other that we completely forgot about our Church’s doctrine and did what seemed like something pleasing toward each other.

We often expressed our love for each other. I told Tara that she was greater than any other woman on earth. To me, she was the most physically beautiful woman. But, my love for her went far beyond that. She demonstrated a lot of concern for me, worked hard on making our time together enjoyable, and possessed very pleasing ladylike attributes. We praised each other. I felt like I was the most special man alive to her, and I feel confident that she felt treasured by me. Finding no flaw with Tara, I grew to love everything about her.

We enjoyed life together as if we were inseparable. We longed to be with each other when we were apart, calling each other often, and rushing to meet each other at every opportunity. Tara and I were like-minded. That is, we enjoyed spending a lot of time alone together just talking and sharing the happenings of the day. We were genuinely and unequivocally in love.

At that time, my father was making an addition on his cabin in Island Park, Idaho. I was on break from school, so I went there to help him. We poured the foundation to the addition during an early snowfall. I remember one of the cement trucks got stuck and another one had to pull it out. It was during that episode when I told my father, “Dad, I think I want to marry Tara.” He responded, “Well, you better be surer than just think.” I told him that I had misspoken and that I was really certain I wanted to marry her. He said that she seemed like “a really great gal” and that he was happy for my decision.

In the weeks that followed, after I returned to school, Tara said that she was considering moving to some state in the Midwest (which state, I cannot recall). She wanted to pursue a career as a travel agent and there was a school there she was interested in attending. My heart sank when she told me that. I thought that I would lose her if that happened. There was nothing that I could have imagined worse than that, for I loved her dearly. I began looking into the schools in the area that she was talking about, to see if I, too, could move there.

In hindsight, I have to wonder why Tara was considering moving to attend this school, given the closeness of our relationship. Perhaps she was getting a bit scared at how close we were becoming, and felt the next step of marriage coming upon us. Maybe she was worried about the “immoral” nature of our relationship, as it was against the doctrine of our Church. Perhaps she just genuinely wanted to become a travel agent and that school was appealing to her. I simply don’t know why she just sprung that news on me, without preparation. I’ll probably never know. What I do know is that I was willing to do anything it took to not lose her.

Then it happened. A few days after the surprise announcement of the travel school, Tara called me with another surprise, a big whopper to be sure. Over the telephone, she told me that she was pregnant. I could tell from her voice that she was very distraught over it. She sobbed as she asked me, “What are we going to do?” I told her, “We’re going to get married, of course!” She said, “We can’t get married just because I’m pregnant.” I explained to her that this wasn’t the reason we should get married, but because we were in love with each other. She said that she would have to think about it.

I remember walking around the condo where I lived, from the kitchen to the living room to the hallway and back to the kitchen, repeatedly. As I did, I thought of what a fantastic happening this was. I felt that God had blessed us, even though we hadn’t followed His gospel principles, and that we were entering a new and important phase of our lives.

After walking around that circuit for what seemed like a thousand times, pondering upon the future, I heard Tara coming in the front door. I went to greet her. She was in tears. Tara told me that she felt like she had done something very wrong in her life, that she had ended up being the failure that her mother once told her she would be. I assured her that this is what mother’s do, in moments of anguish, and her mother had a lot of love and faith in her. I told her that this was a moment to celebrate and not feel bad about. I spoke to her for a long time, filling her full of a hope for the future of us together, with a wonderful little baby. At that time, I felt that love would conquer all.

Tara wasn’t immediately agreeable to getting married, though. She wanted to ponder and pray about it. It took her several days before she agreed to marry me. In that time, I arranged for a proper proposal, one that I hoped would impress her. We had at one time looked at wedding rings and I remembered one she was especially fond of. I purchased it. Then, I set about to make a creative proposal.

I got an egg-timer and set it in a little cardboard box. Then, I decorated the box to look like a bomb, complete with pipe-cleaners for wires and all. Then, I used my video camera to make a proposal video for Tara. In the video, I was in several settings, playing my guitar and singing love songs for her. At the end of the video, I was on my knees and said I had an important question for her. I then had the question text ‘Tara, will you marry me?” superimposed on the screen and asked her the question. I said, “If the answer is ‘yes’ please meet me at Adrian’s [a chic restaurant in Provo, Utah]. If the answer is ‘no’ then please set the timer on the bomb and leave. I will be home before it blows up, because living without you isn’t worth living.” I then called Tara and asked her to come over. I went to Adrian’s, in the hope that she would join me there later on.

Luckily, Tara did show up at Adrian’s. I was grinning ear-to-ear when I saw her. I had asked for, and received, a very romantic setting in the restaurant, one in which I’m sure countless men had proposed to their girlfriends before. It was a romantic dinner, except for one thing. The waiter interrupted us all-too-often, asking if everything was alright. I politely told him, “Yes,” But I wanted to say, “It would be ‘alright’ if you were to get lost!” Because of these frequent interruptions it was hard for me to find a time to present Tara with her engagement ring. In fact, when I finally did do it, the waiter showed up in the middle, to inquire about everything being alright. Seeing me down on my knees with a ring in my hand probably answered his question, as he quickly went away. To my sheer delight, Tara said, “Yes, I will marry you, BB.” No man on earth could be happier than I was at that moment.

My sons, Billy (5) and Tyley (3), were on a popular Taiwanese television show recently. I recorded it onto VHS, edited out everything but Billy and Tyley, and then posted it online.

Download videos here.

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Albert Einstein is credited with the oft-spoken phrase “The definition of stupidity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” “Over and over” and “again” seem redundant. I wonder why he didn’t just use “repeatedly”. But, then again, who am I to question a genius? Einstein was correct with this phrase, on so many levels.

Last month, when most schools hired their teachers for the upcoming school year, I asked the school where I work, via email, if my contract would be renewed for another year. I heard nothing from the school. Ten days ago, I asked again. I heard nothing back. Then, I asked, in-person, last week and was told that I would probably hear about it this week. Finally, today I received an email from the head of the personnel department that stated my contract would actually not be renewed this year. (The current one expires at the end of July.) In the email, he said that he regretted to inform me of this. He added that if I wanted to know the reason why, I should ask the head of the teachers, a Chinese man using the English name of Joseph. (It is common for Chinese people to have English names here in Taiwan, because we native-English speakers frequently have difficulty saying their Chinese names correctly.)

I had suspected last week that something was amiss, when some students said they heard I was leaving the school. I told them then that I was not, and asked them where they heard that. They said they heard it from other students. I wondered where they heard it. I suspect it was from my immediate boss, the head of the English department, “Sharon”. Since she took over the department this school year, her standard mode of communication has been everything but direct. All but a few times, important school communications were given to us, the two foreign teachers, from the students and not by Sharon. However, that is another story, and one that could take up an entire entry on its own.

I immediately called my wife, Shu Mei, and informed her of the email message. At first, she reacted as I suspected she would. She went into doomsday-mode about our finances. She said that we would have to stop our weekly counseling, because we would have no money. She also alluded to other expenditures that she felt needed to be ceased (i.e., air-conditioning, Costco, the Internet, etc.), and said she would begin looking for a new job for me. That phone call, like so many other discussions between Shu Mei and me, left me feeling somewhat emasculated. I really don’t like being in a vulnerable position like this. It reminds me of when I got into the auto accident last year, and Shu Mei helped me recuperate.

Although I appreciate her efforts, as I do now with job-seeking, how Shu Mei communicated to me, during that fragile time, left a lot to be desired. She was extremely overbearing in her manner. Nothing has changed since then. When she talks to me, because of the way she talks to me, I feel like a scolded child. And, that’s even before she gets irate at me, for not understanding her completely. Still, I have to repeat that I do appreciate her efforts. I have a lot of hope that I’ll come out of this dilemma better-off, because of Shu Mei’s actions. I must remember one of my mother’s favorite sayings: beggars can’t be choosers.

Following my first two classes, I had a break. I went to Joseph’s office, because I was genuinely curious as to why the school administration does not want to renew my contract, after five years of service with absolutely no complaints on their part. He wasn’t there. I returned to my classroom to teach two more classes. After that, I taught two more classes.

After that, I began writing an email message to Joseph. He told me early this year that he doesn’t like to communicate via email, but I really didn’t much care about that anymore. In the message, I stated just how upset I was that the school was going to essentially fire me, after such a stellar performance on my part. I got a bit into the message when who should appear at the doorway of my classroom? Joseph. He entered and I told him that I was writing an email to him and was glad he was there in-person, so I could discuss it face-to-face instead. I asked Joseph why the school was not going to renew my contract.

He began to blame the principal (who is part-owner of the school), which has been his modus operandi whenever there has been an issue (e.g., when I didn’t receive a raise after my first year of employment at the school). I interrupted him and said, “Joseph, don’t blame the principal for once. You’re supposed to be a manager. Act like one.” In the past, I had never spoken harshly at Joseph, but I just didn’t care anymore. If the school administration was getting rid of me, an employee who really strives to do the best possible job, then they didn’t deserve courteous banter. I was determined to raise our little tête-à-tête to a more pragmatic intensity, instead of just exchanging niceties.

“As your friend,” Joseph began. I interrupted him again, as this is another disingenuous expression he is frequently prone to use. “Stop saying you’re my friend,” I said to Joseph, “You’re not my friend and you never have been my friend, because a friend would not treat another friend as badly as you have treated me.” I continued, “First of all, my biggest problem is that I was not told about this until now. I should have been told you weren’t renewing my contract last week, when all of the other schools are hiring teachers for the upcoming year. But no, this school, this lazy school that doesn’t do anything until the Principal orders it, waited until the last possible minute to tell me. Now, my options are small. I will probably have to commute a long way to work, if I can even find a teaching job. If you had told me last month, as every other school in the area would have, I would have had a lot of options.”

“Second, in my job before coming to Taiwan, I was in airline management. I had to fire dozens of employees in my time there. I never once did it via email. And, I always gave them a chance to change what they were doing to avoid being fired. Not once have you, or anyone at this school, told me that I was doing a bad job. In fact, I heard many times that I was doing a good job. Let me tell you something, Joseph, I feel confident that I’m the best English teacher you have here.”

“We felt,” Joseph began, “That you weren’t teaching according to our way.” “What is your way?” I asked. “You have lived in Taiwan for many years,” He replied, “You should know our way by now.” I said, “If you’re talking about the English program of this school as being your way, then I understand it completely. I have told you in the past that I think it is the wrong way to teach English, because students actually know less English after leaving here than when they came. You were okay with me teaching in a different way then. If your feelings changed, you should have told me.”

“We just felt that you weren’t encouraging the students to speak English,” He said. “Why do you say that?” I asked. “Because some students told us that,” Joseph replied. “What students?” I asked, “Students from class 306? Some of them have had a problem with me throughout all their three years at this school. You know that they have been encouraged to say those things by their homeroom teacher, Sharon.” (That’s part of the other story I referenced before.)

Joseph repeated, “We just felt that you weren’t encouraging the students to speak English.” I knew he wanted to blame the Principal for this, but I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “How many times did you watch me teach, Joseph? Or, how many times did Sharon, or her predecessor, Carol, watch me teach? Zero. That’s how many times. If you had a problem with me at any time, you would think that just one of you would actually see how I teach, instead of listening to some under-achieving students who are just trying to get on the good side of their homeroom teacher. If that wasn’t the case with those students, and I may be wrong, then surely it was because they were upset that I was actually challenging them to learn English. No other teacher does here.”

Basically, the English program at the school where I teach, aside from what the two foreign teachers do, consists of having students memorize endless vocabulary words and then testing them on the meaning of those words. There is absolutely no actual teaching of English going on, aside from word-memorization, which they forget shortly after testing. It’s really tragic, confirming the fact that the school cares only about money and not education.

Joseph repeated himself a third time, “We just feel that you weren’t encouraging the students to speak English.” “Let me tell you something,” I said, “Back when you asked me to conduct some classes outside for the remainder of the semester, I did so. When you asked me to take the students on a field trip, I did so. Other than that, you haven’t asked me to do anything. You don’t even know what I teach or how I teach. Honestly, I taught from the assigned textbooks to all students. Every English-major class I taught has completed their textbook. How many other English teachers did that? I’m sure you don’t know the answer, but I do - none. That is because they have been busy teaching their own things, telling their own stories about life, or simply not teaching at all.”

“I am the only one who is actually encouraging the students to speak English,” I continued, “No other English teacher asks students questions and gets answers, orally, throughout every class, but me. I award them extra points not only for answering questions, but asking questions, too. And the way I teach, using various audiovisual tools and the Internet, is to help them get excited about speaking English. But, you wouldn’t know any of that, because you, or any of your subordinates, never took the time to actually watch me teach. You’d rather just guess that I’m not doing a good job, because the students are not meeting your expectations with their verbal English ability. I am not the problem here; it is the entire English program that is the problem. English needs to be taught as a whole, reading, writing, speaking, and listening. You shouldn’t have the majority of English teachers focusing on teaching vocabulary words, and expect the only two foreign teachers you have at the school to teach everything else.”

“That’s your American way,” Joseph said, “Not our way.” “No, that’s the right way,” I replied, “When Taiwan is second from the bottom in English proficiency, as they are now, just one up from the bottom level, Vietnam, your way is not working. If you don’t change your way, Taiwan will continue to remain at the bottom. Don’t you think that is sad for a country with this much potential?” “It might not be the right way, as you say it,” Joseph replied, “But it is our way, and you should understand that.” “I do understand that,” I said, “And I understand that if the President of a company wants something done a certain way, like you’re saying the Principal wants English speaking taught, and then the employees of that company should do it, or leave the company. I understand that, and I have always been willing to do what the Principal wants. But, you never told me what he wants. I don’t even think he knows what he wants. Do you know what he wants?” “You should know,” Joseph answered, “You’re the English teacher. I’m not. By now, you should know our way.”

“Let me ask you something,” I queried, “You’re a teacher, too, right?” “Yes,” Joseph replied, “I teach International Business.” “Okay,” I continued, “How do you teach International Business?” Joseph answered, “Well, I start with the basics and go from there, but my students are a lot lower-level than your students.” I asked, “So, your students aren’t very motivated to learn, right?” “Right,” Joseph responded. “So, how do you get them motivated, Joseph?” I asked. “Well,” He said, “I try to tell them how learning International Business will help them in the future.” “Exactly!” I said, “That’s exactly what I do. I first try and get the students interested in learning English by helping them understand how it can help their future, then I begin with the basics. So, I am doing it your way!”

After that, Joseph became visibly distraught. “I just can’t handle this job,” He said to me, “Next year, at the end of my contract, I’m not going to do it anymore. It’s just too much for me.” I’ve heard this song-and-dance before from Joseph, and from Carol and Sharon for that matter, but they all hung on longer than they said they would, because the positions give them more pay. (At least Carol finally followed through with her promise to step down.) “I’ve heard this before from you,” I said to Joseph, “But, I don’t think you’ll do it. You love the money too much.” “No,” He replied, “I don’t care about the money. The Principal is just putting too many demands on me. Do you know that I didn’t leave here until 7:30p every night last week? Every night! And nobody cares.” “Joseph,” I said, “I know exactly how you feel. When I was doing that student video for more than a year, I put in numerous extra hours and worked several Saturdays, without extra pay. Nobody cared about that. In fact, this is what happened to me because of my extra efforts. I’m getting fired! I never thought I’d get fired for doing a good job.” “It’s just terrible,” Joseph said, still thinking about himself. “I know,” I said, still thinking about myself.

That’s basically how the conversation went. As I walked him to the door, he told me that the personnel director should have told me about this last month, because they knew about it then. I told him about what happened with the students last week, and that someone had leaked it to them. I’m pretty sure that you, the reader, know who did that. She’s a piece of work, that Sharon. Vindictive as a woman could ever be! Like a jackal, she’s been lying in wait to get me. Why? I have no idea. I never really did anything bad to her, except call her the worst teacher I’ve ever known, which is the truth. But, she burned the bridge way before that. Again, that’s a whole different story and one which I may, or may not, get around to telling sometime. In the end, she got what she wanted, rid of me. I wish her all the luck in the world. She’ll need it!

For now, I am on the hunt for a new job; sending my resume to all the local schools and actually considering moving back to the US, again. In conclusion, I don’t know who was more stupid: the school administration for not recognizing me as a valuable asset, or me for staying with them so long, knowing they didn’t recognize me as a valuable asset. I have to believe that they were, because they’ll undoubtedly continue to do the same thing over and over again [sic] and expect different results.