There is something slightly imperial about Reggie.
As the wheelchair glides through his apartment, he gives instructions in a calm, low-pitched voice, asking Alexa to play a song or his helper to bring him a drink. This is when you realize the extent of his handicap: getting a drink to Reggie isn’t just putting a cup near him—it means holding it so he can bring his mouth to the straw.
Although he can still move his hands, he lacks the muscular strength to hold a glass safely. “It is my next goal,” he says, “I will soon start training to be able to hold my drinks myself.”
＊欲閱讀中文版本，請參考：專訪在高雄「重生」的美國教師──輪椅「王者」Reggie，如何用教育與音樂轉動人生？
A Life Transformed by Accident
Reggie Lamar Ogletree was once a kid in Alabama, United States. He was a young African-American student, then a worker in Philadelphia, and later a teacher across East Asia.
When a dive broke his spine, he became wheelchair-bound.
And not just any wheelchair: Reggie’s machine sports the big wheels of a Martian rover. Every time he moves, he reminds you to mind your feet. This is perhaps what gives the most regal impression: he is calm, considerate, caring, and always aware of everyone’s comfort as he owns the space where his towering wheelchair ventures—even though he suffers from such a life-altering predicament.
Perhaps it makes sense to be so sensitive about what happens around you and about everyone’s safety when you have lost the use of your limbs through a simple diving accident. When I first interviewed him for a radio program, he concluded with a simple piece of wisdom: “Be aware of your surroundings.”
To this day, Reggie’s awareness is especially acute for someone whose movements are so limited—he sees everything in the room.
Finding His Stage in Kaohsiung
Reggie is well-known in Kaohsiung, where he has been living since 2015. His accident gave him more attention—a Facebook group gathering support and raising funds for his healthcare has almost a thousand members. But he was already a local figure before breaking his spine in 2023, known both as a musician and an educator.
“I yearn to create, and right now I drive myself crazy because I can’t,” he says. “I downloaded a program to see if a voice-controlled function could help me create music, create chord progressions. And I managed to create a very, very simple song. I don’t like it, but it’s mine! I made it! And I’m hoping my fingers will let me create more.”
Before the accident, he spent his spare time playing music, either alone or with others. “The perfect Saturday for me was listening and being inspired by something I just heard, then running to pack my keyboard, beats, guitar, or whatever,” he recalls. “My house was essentially a recording studio.”
Now, his apartment is sparsely furnished, leaving room for the big wheelchair and anyone giving a hand to move around. Most of the music equipment is stored away.
But he remains in this home near Kaohsiung’s Music Center in the vibrant and artsy Yancheng area. Nearby is the Rocks club, a legendary venue for musicians in the harbor city, where the audience is welcomed to join on stage, grab an instrument and play.
He moved close to Rocks precisely so he could jam with Taiwanese musicians. “I didn’t play with many Taiwanese musicians in my bands—some members were Taiwanese, but mostly were foreigners. Schedules often stopped me from playing with Taiwanese musicians. Many of them have to work and can’t make scheduled rehearsals. Except for jam nights, when we were able to be creative together.”
Kindness and Challenges on Kaohsiung Streets
Talking with Reggie about his experience with accessibility in Taiwan is unique.
The area where Reggie lives appears convenient for a wheelchair. There’s a long park that stretches across several blocks, and the sidewalks are fairly wide.
First, because it concerns Kaohsiung rather than Taipei. And second, because, by his own admission, he is still busy learning how to manage it. “Accessibility is all new to me,” he says, “It’s been two years and a few months, and I’m still finding my way. Kaohsiung presents itself as an especially progressive city, and in my neighborhood, I can get around super easily. But on streets with many shops, it gets trickier. One storefront will be fine, and then you will be met with a ditch! I can ride on the road, but that’s a little bit dangerous.”
When asked about Taiwanese attitudes to his challenges, Reggie offers an interesting answer—outdoors is fine, but indoors is harder. “Taiwanese people have been very good to me outside. I use the bike path a lot, and people on bicycles would give me a wide enough berth or even go down and walk around me. I did not have any issues with cars either on zebra crossings.”
But the moment he steps inside, it’s another story, especially on public transport. “I often see people in the wheelchair spot when I enter a carriage. There’s a dedicated space in all public transport. I have to approach it slowly so people have a chance to see me coming, but they have their heads down on their cellphones. I have to use my horn, which is not very loud—more like a message tone. So I have to speak up. The spot is just the right size for my big wheelchair, so I have to be aware—the last thing I want is to hurt somebody by rolling over their foot or bumping into someone. But again, all this is new to me.”
He adds with a laugh, “The trickiest are people walking with a cane, swinging it forward as if to say, ‘Get out of my way!’”
Holding on to Music
A few days later, I met Reggie again, this time in a hospital where he would stay for several weeks. Not only does he need regular checkups, but he also undergoes new surgeries in an attempt to improve his condition.
He does not expect to recover the use of his legs—by his own admission, he would be the first person to do so after such an injury—but he focuses on improving the motricity and agility of his arms and hands.
When I visit him at the hospital, he can still move his hands enough to handle the stick that controls his wheelchair, but he does so by pressing his palm rather than grabbing with his fingers. Even this level of motricity in his wrists and arms came only after several surgeries and therapy sessions. Right after the accident, he could only move his head.
Regaining more control over his hands would allow him to get back to musical activities, on percussion, guitars, and hopefully on the piano. “I’ve never been so great at piano,” he says. “I’m good with the right hand but not the left hand. And now I’ve got no hands!”
He also hopes to reconnect with his Taiwanese audience. Although he lamented the lack of opportunities to play with local musicians, the audience absolutely captivated him. “The best part was the Taiwanese fans. Nobody gets crazier at a show than the Taiwanese. They’re just absolutely thrilled to be at a show, and seeing their face enjoying it—that was a driving force for me to keep playing.”
As we discuss his musical career in the hospital room, Reggie’s face shines when he remembers his experience as a drummer with the Kaohsiung-based band Ghost Money All-Stars.
“It was our first festival. We had a late evening slot in a tent. I couldn’t believe the size of the audience watching us. Everybody from other stages joined the party. The band after us joined in the end. The stage was made of scaffolding, and there were people hanging off it playing horns while we played our last song. It was overwhelming! That’s when I felt—this is really what I wanna do, to teach and play music.”
Teaching as a Calling
Teaching remains central to Reggie’s life.
He first started teaching English to foreigners as a student in the United States, where he offered classes on campus. His method is playful and organic, setting him apart from the strict world of tests and textbooks.
This inspired him to seek further opportunities to refine his skills. In 2013, he moved to China, offering classes in Shanghai and Tianjin.
“Once I was in China, I actually found a job I love, which is this style of teaching. I did many professional trainings because I wanted to do it correctly. I worked in cram schools—a lot of micromanagement—which actually showed me just how nefarious some schools can be. They care more about the business than education, despite their claims, and parents do not see that. So I crafted my own curriculum and used it directly with the parents. That opened up a whole new world for me because it’s exactly what they needed.”
But it was in Kaohsiung that he found his true calling as a teacher, and where his alternative methods really took off.
He explains: “A lot of games and activities I do, kids aren’t even aware they are learning. They just play with cool toys. They gain confidence, and more. It’s like a bitter pill hidden in a piece of cake. We do that for one and a half or two hours, and when I leave, everybody’s happy. Sometimes we sit and learn together, like a family.
That’s the sort of education that I crafted, not just going through a textbook in a cram school. I’m like, let’s play Uno—but the way I tell it. I have like fifty different versions of the game, each with a teaching purpose. For instance, in Uno, you have to say exactly what you put down, such as ‘I have a red five,’ in English. The kids eat it up because they are not even aware of what they are learning.”
This approach helps children gain confidence in using the language. “For parents,” he says, “I am someone who interacts with their child, who’s been at school all day, and acts as a buffer. I come after dinner or when they get home, and give the parents a little time to themselves, which they never get, and the children get to do something unrelated to school.”
Reggie also offered training to adult professionals. One highlight of his teaching career in Kaohsiung was helping the local police learn English for dealing with tourists. He remains in high demand for his professionalism and the efficiency of his alternative methods.
Finding Strength and Community in Kaohsiung
Even before his accident, Taiwan had greatly improved his outlook on life. Reggie says Kaohsiung has been “like a magnet, much freer in so many ways. Moving here gave me time to think about my life. Before, it was just graduating high school, going to college, getting a job, dropping out because you had to work to make money... The worst was juggling three part-time jobs with no health insurance.
Wisdom teeth coming in, what do you do? You go to a community dentist who has a schedule of like a month long, you wait in pain, and get a tooth removed without any painkillers or anesthesia. This is life, not just for me, but for so many people. You have no time to think about the future. You always have in mind that you need to find a better job, never satisfied, especially coming from my socioeconomic background.”
Anyone who has spent time with people afflicted by serious health issues knows there is always a peculiar sort of underlying joy in their lives, and Reggie is no exception. People who survive accidents tend to return to essentials.
Conversations with Reggie always turn to the two pillars of his life—education and music. The man loves to teach and play music. It would take more than spinal damage to cut him off from this. Sticks and stones don’t break his will.
Reggie is always keen to remind everyone that the strong support he received in Kaohsiung inspires him to give back to the community. Perhaps the reason he seems so imperial as he rolls around in his wheelchair is that, in his own peculiar way—through education, music, and fighting back against his injury—he has carved out his own special realm in the heart of the city.
＊欲閱讀中文版本，請參考：專訪在高雄「重生」的美國教師──輪椅「王者」Reggie，如何用教育與音樂轉動人生？
執行、核稿編輯：羅思涵
