I mentioned previously how I happened to become an ESL (English as a Second Language) teacher to adults in San Francisco. I was initially hired to teach in Chinatown in 1969, and language nut that I am, I started studying Cantonese right away. Although I was never proficient, I could fumble along well enough to help put a student at ease, and yet be able to say in all honesty that they had to speak English because I couldn't understand what they said otherwise.
I planned a major trip to Asia for the summer of 1973--it was going to include stops in Taiwan and Hong Kong, as well as Malaysia. (The Malaysia part got canceled when I decided I didn't want to be away from my soon-to-be husband for that long, having planned the trip before we'd met, but that's another story.) I was going with another friend for part of the trip, but was going to do the rest of the trip solo. I thought it would be a good experience to see what it was like to be in a foreign country where you didn't know the language well. I thought it would help me understand my students better.
I had a marvelous experience, and I learned much that I was able to use in my teaching. I really had a taste of the problems that my students were having trying to survive in an English-speaking environment without being fluent in the language. My Chinese (by that time I had studied some Mandarin too, but was still not at all fluent) was barely enough to squeak by, and I got used to breaking out into a sweat every time I had to ask for something. I found out the easiest way to order something in a restaurant (when you couldn't really read the menu) was to ask for something easy, like chicken chow mein, or else take a chance and ask for the day's special. (I knew how to say that too!)
I remember riding on a bus and being overjoyed to see one street sign that I could read, and therefore follow on the map. I even managed to get stranded on top of Alishan mountain with a non-English speaking friend of a student's friend when a number three typhoon came through and blew out the railroad tracks. I thought of my students often, and about how hard it must be for them to get accustomed to life in a new city. When I returned from my trip, I told myself to remember how I felt so I could try to empathize more with my students.
At the end of the year, having read all the "tax rules for teachers" about how you could deduct travel expenses if you were a teacher and your travel was related to your teaching, I decided to use my trip as a deduction, since learning how someone feels while living in a society where they couldn't speak the native language well was what my students were doing. I did just that when I filed taxes for that year.
I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised to find out that I was being audited. I was told to bring all my papers along to the interview. I believe I was also told to document every school I had visited in order to get credit for the education expense. The problem was that I had not visited any schools. Visiting schools would not have taught me as much as I learned being on my own with a minimum knowledge of the native language. I felt that should be even more important than visiting a school would have been.
I hadn't kept a log of what I did each day, but I borrowed all the letters I had written to my then soon-to-be husband, and made a journal of all the insights I had gained while trying to survive with my lack of language. I was twenty-eight at the time, and not as forceful or sure of myself as I would become in later years. I was pretty nervous about the upcoming interview, but went in to represent myself the best I could.
The gentleman who I spoke to first was a very kind Japanese-surnamed individual (I don't know where he was born) who really understood what I was saying about the language experience being more important to what I taught than a visit to a school would have been. He nodded in all the right places, looked interested and concerned, but eventually said he was very sorry, but he was sure his supervisor wouldn't accept my explanation and therefore he couldn't agree with me and I would have to talk to the supervisor instead.
I don't remember much about the interview with the supervisor. I don't remember if it was on the same day or if I had another appointment. I only remember that he was definitely not sympathetic to my point of view, and that he was, indeed, belligerent, unkind, and attacked me verbally so that I could barely make it to the elevator before I burst into tears. Crying in the elevator is my strongest memory.
I did, however, believe I was correct. I did not agree that if my trip was allowed to count as an appropriate expense that everyone who ever took a vacation anywhere would be able to count their vacations too. The supervisor had told me that anyone who taught English could take off a trip to Australia then. I was told there was one more appeal that could be made, before the decision of whether or not to go to court. I decided to appeal.
The last-chance-before-court decision maker was a much calmer person. I explained again how taking the trip had helped me understand my students better, and gave him the log I had created from my letters home. He understood my point of view, and noted an IRS court decision in which an art teacher had initially been denied a tax deduction for a trip to Paris and the Louvre. In that case, the judge had decided that it was a legitimate expense, and she was just lucky to have a job in which a trip to the Louvre could be related to her teaching. The IRS man said he thought I fit in the same category, and approved the deduction.
I got older, more experienced, less able to accept bullshit, and more outspoken as the years went by. I like to think I wouldn't cry this time, but you never know ;). Now I figure I just do the best I can with my taxes and if they want to call me in, they can.