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Every little girl from my generation had her favorite Disney princess. Not every girl from my generation can still, twenty-odd years later, sing the entire score from their princess’s movie, but that’s beside the point. For me, this princess was none other than ginger fish-girl, Ariel. I remember singing “Part of Your World” alone in the dark basement of the house I grew up in, fantasizing that the shelving unit my toys were stacked on was actually the levels upon levels of “gadgets and gizmos aplenty” that I stowed in my underwater cavern of treasures. I was a a bit of a dreamer.
This past weekend was a four-day-er, thanks to the Buddhist lent. Buddhist holidays are to me now what Jewish holidays were to me in grade school– religious rite for you, day-off for me. So, I observed the sacred days by catching an overnight bus down Thailand’s southern peninsula last Wednesday, and by Thursday morning I was walking the gloriously sunny, white-sand Sairee beach of Ko Tao; where my first order of business was to find a dive school.
The beauty of the Thai islands (you know, aside from the glorious sunshine and white-sand beaches) is that there is truly something for everyone. You’ve got your party islands, your chillaxin-in-a-hammock islands, your fishermen islands, your rock-climbing islands, your scenic vista islands, your almost-like-Tom Hanks-in-Castaway islands. You name it, Thailand’s got an island custom-made to fit your own little idea of “paradise.” Yeah, it’s a really rough life here. And Ko Tao? Ko Tao is the diver’s paradise. Crystal clear turquoise waters, living coral reefs, Flounder, Sebastian and the hot crustacean band, and best of all, unbeatable prices. This little cashew-shaped island off the western coast of the Gulf of Siam is crawling with divers, both experienced and aspiring, as the costs are said to be some of the cheapest in the world. Still, with just under 3 days on the island and limited funds in light of my upcoming travel adventures, I opted for a one-day non-certifying “Discover SCUBA Dive,” with the enthusiastic and laid-back folk at SCUBA Junction.
The first hour of my dive-day was a quickie dry-land lesson on theory (I guess just strapping an oxygen tank to my back and dumping me off the boat is irresponsible?). Alex, my instructor, explained to me and my fellow try-diver all the ways we could go about rupturing an inner-ear membrane, squeezing a lung, or getting attacked by a triggerfish, and taught us the strategies and sign language we could use underwater to avoid said complications. Then, it was time for action! SCUBA Junction doesn’t have a pool, so we started off by practicing the essential skills in some shallow water off the coast of Ao Leuk beach. I stood on my tippy-fins as Alex reviewed each skill from our crash-course, then we we let some air out of our vests so that we slowly sank down to the ocean floor, where we sat on our knees for pop quiz time. Somehow, being deprived of oxygen while I had to retrieve a lost regulator (the thing you breathe into) was no issue for me, but I had a small panic attack when my goggles filled up with water and I couldn’t properly drain them. Alex calmed me down and had me try a few more times, but somehow this skill and I just weren’t jiving. Finally, he said to forget about it, and that in the unlikely event that it became a problem he’d bring me to the surface.
THEN came the moment I’d been waiting for. My mermaid moment. I found my zen-place and we swam off into deeper water to explore Ko Tao’s lesser-known world. Within minutes, a baby stingray floated by us like a tiny flying carpet (…wait just a second here! Which Disney film is this???!). In that moment I was officially hooked (no pun intended). I snorkeled for the first time back in 2010 in the Galapagos and saw some incredible creatures– a giant mama stingray nuzzled into the sand on the ocean floor, some playful sea lions and torpedo-esque penguins zipping through the blue, a white-tipped reef shark just kind of… chillin’. The aquatic life, to be sure, was in much more variety in the Galapagos, but the serenity of the experience was rudely interrupted every couple of minutes when I’d break through the surface, spitting out salt water and gasping for air as I shook my mask clean. This new sensation of being… suspended… and enveloped in a thick, warm air- entirely weightless, was completely surreal. Also, I had mermaid hair.
From what I recall, my first SCUBA experience looked a little something like this.
My try-dive friend and I followed Alex around like little swimming puppies (dog-fish?), marveling as he became an underwater magician. Waving his hand in front of some coral, tiny little Christmas trees in vibrant yellow, red, and blue blossomed and retracted before our eyes, and some giant, curvy-mouthed shell opened its jaws, sensing his approach. We saw butterflyfish, moorish idol fish, parrot fish, Nemo fish (sh#t! Wrong movie again!), and another, larger stingray with glowing neon blue spots. At one point, a school of tropical fish nose-dived down to the ocean floor from atop a big coral cliff– a waterfall of grey and gold.
SCUBA didn’t come naturally to me, but as we glided along I began to get the hang of controlling my depth, breathing out long and hard to feel my body sink further down and inhaling deeply to fill my lungs with air and rise closer to the surface. It was a totally new way to control my body, and I never really achieved a good balance, but enjoyed exploring this newfound power in my breath. As time ticked away I was amazed at how long I could really stay part of this world. Fifty minutes after our descent, it was time to get back on the boat. But, thoroughly seduced and craving more, I eagerly forked over the 850 baht to go for a second dive.
So much for trying to save money by doing a try-dive. Now that I’ve had a little taste I am greedy for more. I’m thinking about splurging on my Open Water Certification before I leave here. On one hand, it is rather pricey, but on the other hand, I probably can’t do it cheaper anywhere else, and how often are you living in South East Asia? Things to consider…
I’ll leave you with some photos of the stunningly beautiful Ko Tao, and it’s baby sister island Ko Nang-Yuan. Hoping to return here before I bid farewell!
Anyone who knows me knows that my attention span for athletic events– any athletic events– is pretty short (read: nonexistent), and my understanding of athletics, even less (read: negative existent). My uncle loves to tell the story of the time when I sat by him at a Hartford Whaler’s hockey game and earnestly asked why a player was sent to the penalty box for “stick holding”… aren’t they all holding sticks? And it wasn’t but three or four years ago that I turned to my older sister while watching a Red Sox game from her couch to declare that the “back-catcher”‘s pants looked far too tight, and he should really loosen his belt. Once she understood that I was referring to the umpire, it was a hot second before all other members of my immediate family caught wind of my idiotic remark (thank you, texting). And, lest I forget… perhaps not just a testament to my lack of sports sense, but common sense too… the time, MANY YEARS AGO, when I asked how many quarters were in a football game. Good one, Christine.
But, the Olympics I can get behind. There’s something special about an event that can incite so much patriotism and camaraderie… even I have to jump on the bandwagon. Politics and religion and Sox versus Yankees and everything that we feud about are set aside, and so long as we’re all tuned into NBC, we’re all on the same team. Team USA. I always laugh at those guys who get so invested in their team that they won’t change their underwear or brush their teeth until the championship is through. Honestly, do you really think that your ugly, patchy, grody whiskers are so divine that you’ll squander a Superbowl victory if you so much as give ’em a trim? Yes, I do realize that this is often done in jest, but then I have to wonder: is it really? Some part of them, I think, really believes it.
Well, this is a shout out to all you grody bearded fellas with the foul-smelling breath! This is to say, that while I will continue to wash my underwear, I can kind of almost see where you’re coming from. Because when those Olympians stand up on that podium, the American flag triumphantly billowing behind them and the Star-Spangled Banner sounding out of my television set, a part of me truly believes that I have a claim to some of that gold hanging around their necks. And when they’re blubbering into the reporter’s microphone that “this one’s for you, America!”, some part of me really does swell with pride. You’re welcome, Michael Phelps! You are welcome.
So, yesterday morning I suddenly got very excited for the big event, and was quickly disappointed to find that the Internet had failed me. Alas, I’d been able to find next to zero coverage on YouTube so early in the morn, and no satisfactory streaming sites. I’m going to keep hunting, but, as chance would have it, I did manage front row seats to Suphan’s own little version of the Olympics this past week. And, while perhaps it was no London 2012 Opening Ceremony, the students at Sa-Nguan Ying did put on quite the impressive show!
Imagine the curiously Thai love-child of the Olympic Games and a U.S. Field Day, at a Lady Gaga concert, and that was the Sa’Nguan Ying Sport Festival. Schools and universities all over the country shut down for this annual spectacle of color, choreography, competition, and camaraderie. And it was awesome.
The students were divided into teams and assigned a color, around which the older kids led the littles in designing costumes, banners, chants, and cheers. On the first day of the Sport Festival, the kids paraded from the market in the city-center to school, banging drums, twirling batons, and pushing home-fashioned floats down the street as cars, motorbikes, and tuk-tuks weaved in and out. Yes, remember that this is Thailand, people… no streets were shut down in the making of this parade. Instead, the children and motorbikes shared the road peacefully as one.
They looked so grown up… It was hard to believe these are our kids!
Some of the older girls donned traditional Thai dress, poofy princess gowns, or Gaga-inspired warrior dresses, while the M1’s and 2’s charged into battle with cardboard swords and pompoms in hand.
Eyeballs and the Earths seemed to be reoccurring themes, but I’ll have to ask my kids for more on that on Monday.
After the parade, the students stood in groups behind their team banner while the National Anthem was played, opening remarks made, and the torch– yes, the torch– was lit.
Next came the cheerleading competition. But Thai cheerleading, I learned, is far more theatrical than any I’ve seen stateside. In a word, it was a production. While the kids danced and cheered in funky and elaborate costumes, equipped with sets and props, their color teammates in the stands had their own choreography to perform, waving flags and fans and pompoms, while others chanted and amp-ed up the crowd with their drum beats. Every kid in the school had a role to play, and each one carried out their duty with heaps of enthusiasm!
And, finally it was onto the football and basketball tourneys. On Day 2 of the Sport Festival I watched my M4 boys face my M5 boys in a bball match. Torn between my babies, I found myself cheering for both teams.
In the end, M4 was no match for Nai and his jump shot
Luckily, this won’t be a problem during the Olympics. The US has my allegiance, of course, but still, it doesn’t feel right rooting against Thailand, which has been my home for nearly 10 months. So, I’ve decided that since a Muay Thai gym here in town has welcomed the other farang and myself to work out with them for free, and because it is a super bad ass National Sport, Thailand can share my support in the Olympic boxing ring, and the U.S. can have the lot of it everywhere else.
And, of course, I’ll be cheering for Donn Cabral, the baby brother of an old high school friend, as he represents Team USA in the Steeplechase. If Michael Phelps and his 12,000 calorie diet can win this anti-athlete’s attention, you better believe that I’ll be tuning in to see Donny kill it on the track. Still, finding a place to watch the Games while I am weekending on the tropical island paradise of Ko Tao next Friday might prove difficult…
… I’m crying you a river as we speak. 🙂
Today started out like any other day. I reviewed for an upcoming test with my junior class, I did some lesson planning interlaced with periodic newsfeed refreshes. I ate a great big lunch of pad krapow muu (spicy basil pork) atop a mountain of rice, dripping with the delicious yellow goodness of some poor chick who never had the chance to live. I came back to school, drank a cup of tea, and then it came time for my compulsory post-luncheon trip to the ladies’ room.
And that’s when my normal, like-any-other-day day turned. I did what I had to do (I’ll spare you the details), and then when I went to exit the facility to make my way to my lovely little M4 class for a lesson on asking for and giving directions, the door wouldn’t open. Of course, my first instinct was to assume I was being an idiot. I tried the door again… it didn’t open. I pulled harder– still wouldn’t budge. I even turned the knob to the left instead of the right (had I forgotten how to open a door?), but still to no avail. I looked up and down the door at the metal stall locks running horizontally on the bottom and vertically up at the top corner, but sure enough I had not used those, thinking the simple mortice lock on the door knob (yes, I did look up the name of that for the purpose of this story) would do the trick… which evidently it had as there was no opening this door. It seemed that when the button on the knob was released, the metal piece had still remained nestled in its nook on the wall opposite, leaving me helplessly stuck in the washroom with class starting in T minus…
…Nevermind. I heard the bell ring signaling the start of the next class. I’ve had the experience in Thailand of being unable to leave the bathroom, but this is usually the result of something I’ve eaten… never because I physically could not open the door. It was about this time that I realized that I would be making no graceful exit, so I started making noise. First, a few knocks hoping that some passerby would hear them and acknowledge that it was odd for the knocks to be coming from inside the bathroom, but it wasn’t long before I had both fists pounding relentlessly on the door, calling desperately for help in between fits of laughter.
Finally I heard an angelic little voice from the opposite side of my barricade… “Teachaa? Teachaa are you okay?” I told whoever it was (still unsure… it seems that they very politely decided not to remind me of my inglorious damsel in distress moment) to go fetch another teacher, and a few minutes later Kru Nok, Kru Fon, and Kru Ekawee had arrived. They tried the key a few times, gave the door a few good shakes, and when Ekawee was convinced that there was no opening this lock, he went Liam Neeson on its a$$ and pounded it in, ripping the metal lock right off the door and a big splinter of wood with it. I was free.
Buuuuuuuut then I had to explain to my students why I was late to class. Of course it had to be a foreigner, it had to be me who went and got herself locked in the bathroom. Of course it would have to be one of us clueless, incompetent little farang bumbling around here who had to be rescued from the toilet by her Thai colleagues. Of course.
P.S. After writing this I had to add a “toilet” tag to this blog. I didn’t expect to need one of those, but it turns out that my experiences here incite many-a toilet story.
Why, hello! It’s been a while, and quite a lot has happened. I’ve had difficulty as of late getting these first words down on the page. But, here they are! And the first hurdle is cleared.
The new school year is in full swing here at Sa-Nguan Ying. The Thai academic year runs from May until the end of February/ beginning of March with a mid-year break in October, and in the case of my super-ambitions English Program children, portions of the interim periods are dedicated to extra classes, summer school, and competitions. When I landed in Thailand in October, I arrived just in time to take on the 7th and 9th grade English classes with the start of the second semester. Now, it’s 8 months later and I’m kicking off a new academic year with the sophomore, junior, and senior classes.
The school year is off to a strong start, and I find myself much more at ease in the classroom than I did in my first years of teaching. I’ll go ahead and take a small share of the credit for that– my organization and time management, I think, have improved quite a lot– but the real delights in working at Sa-Nguan Ying are my wonderful, remarkably adorable students! Their joy is truly infectious and, working with these students, I don’t think anyone could help but camouflage right in in the Land of Smiles.
This past month, Sa-Nguan Ying students participated in Wai Kru celebrations. The hands held in lotus, or prayer stance, known as the “wai,” is the Thai sign of greeting, thanks, and respect. “Kru” is the word for teacher, and thus Wai Kru Day is Thailand’s national Teacher Appreciation Day. Teaching is a highly revered profession here in Thailand, and this holiday in which students show their respect and appreciation to their mentors is upheld in schools throughout the kingdom. Students recite a wai kru chant asking for blessings from their teachers and present them with ornate flower arrangements– the blossoms traditionally symbolizing intelligence, perseverance, and respect.
The day before Wai Kru, the students in each class at Sa-Nguan Ying collaborated to create two flower arrangements, which representatives from the classes carried in procession during the next day’s ceremony. They were presented in homage to some of the school’s most distinguished and long-serving professionals, then judged in categories of “beauty” and “creativity,” and displayed in the classrooms.
Pear, Aoy, View, and Boong representing their M2 (8th grade) classes
some of our M3 kids (9th grade)
Cee with the M6 “Angry Bird” arrangement
The Wai Kru ceremony was neat to see, but my real reason for writing today is to “wai” my super students, who make teaching at Sa-Nguan Ying such a pleasure everyday. Here’s why…
1) They’re super affectionate
Each morning I am greeted by so many bright and happy faces calling out “Hello teachaaaa!” from down the hall. My Thai students are all a bunch of little love-bugs, and their love is unconditional. The students love to give us hugs (refreshingly uncontroversial here), and every so often our days begin with tiny little Kaew with her squeaky little voice darting all around the office and distributing fragrant white flowers cupped in banana leaf vessels. A deep respect for elders and especially their caretakers has been ingrained in them from the time they were wee babes, and though I don’t know that this unconditional love is always warranted, I do revel it. Reading my students weekly journals, I once came upon an entry where the student wrote “Teacher is like second parent.” I can’t speak for Thai student-teacher relationships everywhere, but I really do think it is a special bond that the students and teachers share here in the English Program.
2) They’re super expressive
These kids are super expressive, and the sound effects they make crack me up! They have this way of saying “oooooOOOOOooooo,” in unison when they find something intriguing that is really quite uncanny. I don’t know if it is a sixth sense, or if they all just have lightening-fast reaction times, but a nanosecond after one kid starts to “oo…” they all join in. Believe me when I say that this choral “ooooOOOOoooo” is one of the cutest sounds known to man. Put on a movie for these kids, and I’ve won myself 50 min of free entertainment without so much as glancing at the TV. When my M4 (sophomore) kids completed their first unit test, we decided to take some time to chill out a bit by watching the movie “UP.” I wish I had a sound byte of this for you. The room was filled with ooooOOOOoooo’s and Ahhhhhhh’s and Eiiiiiiaaaa’s and Ay’s! Sometimes I thought they were going to jump right out of their chairs and lunge at the screen. These kids are super enthusiastic, and it makes teaching them super fun.
3) They’re super not angsty
Okay, so I know that teenagers are teenagers and they’ve all got these rampaging hormones inside of them that make them momentarily insane for 3-7 years, but these kids are so happy! Then again, you can never be too sure in Thailand, because the culture discourages negative displays of emotion, but they sure seem happy. And yes, there are some that are more well-adjusted than others, and the occasional “Eeyore” that sits alone and rarely cracks a smile, but the angsty-years just don’t seem to be as much of a rite of passage here.
4) They’re super singers
My students love to sing. As a rule, Americans are exponentially more loud and boisterous than Thai folk… as a trend, obnoxiously so. But in this country, when it comes time to set up the microphone and let out your inner-rock star, nobody’s putting Baby in a corner. Uninhibited though they may be in so many ways, most people I know from home at least need some liquid courage before they’ll take to the karaoke stage, and that’s the brave ones. But in Thailand a party isn’t a party without karaoke, whether it is set up in a VIP room at a restaurant or hotel or out of the back of a pick-up truck. My students love to sing, and some of their (and my!) favorite lessons are when I bring in an English song for them to listen to, filling in the missing words on their lyric sheets by applying our new grammar rules or vocabulary words. After we listen, it’s time to stand up and sing, and most of them are not shy to belt out the lyrics!
5) They’re super sanook maak loi
That is, very fun to the extreme. And pretty gung-ho about whatever they’re asked to do, so long as there is a steady influx of fun. My Thai students have taught me to be less serious in the classroom. I’ve learned that in teaching language learners, my number one goal should be to encourage them to enjoy English class. If they feel comfortable in my class, they’ll feel more comfortable practicing their English and hopefully more inclined to use it outside of class. Fun, or “sanook,” is a big part of Thai culture– go “sanook” or go home, one might say. And these kids work so hard– attending extra classes after school hours and weekend enrichment courses as well… they get so excited when they get to let their hair down. That is not to say that we play games everyday, but we’re all around a more happy and productive whole when the fun keeps flowing. Of course, this is true of my students in the States, too, but somehow working with my Thai kids has really driven this lesson home for me. The kids are gung-ho about anything with an element of sanook, and they are especially enthusiastic when there are Reeses Peanut Butter Cups at stake. When these kids get competitive, man do they get competitive!
All in all, my experiences at Sa-Nguan Ying have been very positive. It isn’t always easy to be working in the education system of such a foreign culture– quite a few of the practices that I’ve encountered here have felt counter-intuitive to me. And it is the same in the States– there is so much “fluff” that can cloud your vision and make you lose sight of the main goal. But whenever I’ve felt frustrated with the system, I have only to think about my wonderful, narak-ah kids and none of the rest matters.
If you were to ask me to name one quality that teaching has honed in me, I think I’d go with “adaptability.”
People are unpredictable, the adolescent breed even more so, and in a room full of twenty-odd unpredictable, hormonal teenagers, your lessons are never going to come to life in exactly the tidy procedure that you mapped out. You learn to adjust. To expect the unexpected.
One quality that living in Thailand promotes?
Same answer: Rolling with the punches, going with the flow. Expecting the unexpected, and remaining jai yen. As a teacher, this is something you work at. You begin to plan for the unexpected. You learn who each of the precious little gremlins in front of you is and you try to develop strategies to cope with their different learning styles and shenanigans. As a farang teacher in Thailand, adaptability isn’t just a skill, it is a way of life.
As with teaching, travel in Thailand requires you to be patient, flexible, and easy going.
How many hours I’ve sat idle on a bus– watching the rice paddies and concrete cities and 7-11′s zoom by… I couldn’t begin to guess.
You get dropped and abandoned at the side of the road at 4:00 in the morning in a torrential downpour, the driver assuring you that your ride to island paradise will arrive shortly. Bed bugs share your guesthouse with you. Maybe you find yourself up north in the Golden Triangle, playing the role of “midwife” to a mama pig in labor. Or, you finish your “tofu” dinner only to learn it was actually congealed blood. You’re carted along with your tuk-tuk chauffeur as he detours to the market to procure a raw fish, haphazardly flopping it down on the seat beside you. I wish I could claim ownership of all of these stories (especially the piglet-birthing) but they belong to my friends as well. There is no avoiding it for any of us. In a developing country where we don’t know the language, we’re often at the mercy of strangers and strange circumstances. Hilarity, frustrations, and unpredictable absurdities ensue.
And it is no different in school. Well, that’s a lie… there are no baby pigs here. If only. But my efforts to remain zen when I am totally clueless stay the same. Having taught in a pretty unstable urban public school district in Massachusetts, I am no stranger to the unexpected. But, while my well-mannered Thai pupils present fewer challenges in classroom management, the language barrier and my own Western schooling/ teacher’s training render an entirely different need for adaptation.
At the moment, I’m sitting in the school office with my fellow farang teachers, half an hour into the school day, and it’s occurred to us that none of the Thai faculty are here. None of us know where our co-workers are, but we’re not all that concerned. As foreign teachers we’re used to going about our usual business until it becomes clear we need to pivot.
We’re nearing the end of the semester, and right now our students are studying for their Thai exams. Again, we’re along for the ride. I was told that exams are Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, while another English teacher heard Monday and Friday. Will I be teaching at all next week? I dunno. Will I find out before I am supposed to be in the classroom? Not likely. Is this frustrating? Yes. But, I’ve learned to accept that I’ll never understand what’s going on in this country until it’s already happening to me. Timely information is not to be trusted– it always changes, anyway.
My boss said it yesterday as he informed us we’d be audited today… “I just found out ten minutes ago. But, this is Thailand!” in line with the nationwide “mai bpen rai” philosophy– a Renaissance-man of a phrase, meaning “You’re welcome,” “No problem,” ‘Nevermind,” “Fahget about it,” and “Hakuna matata,” Thai culture embodies the Buddhist Middle Way principle of emotional-moderation. You’re encouraged to remain calm and relaxed and just go with the flow.
As with our many travel misadventures, living in the dark makes each school day a little more exciting. Like when I signed up, perhaps against my better judgement, to participate in the school Sports Day Fun Run. One person told me that the run started at 8:30 am, someone else said 9:30 am. Yet another source told me 3 pm.
So, not knowing when it would begin, I arrived at school dressed in my usual teaching attire– my sneakers and oh-so-official racing outfit packed in my L.L.Bean backpack. I was busy planning a finals review game when I heard the horn sound, marking the start of the race. I hurdled over some desks, long-jump-ed my way into the bathroom, and changed into my running clothes in record time. I sprinted down four flights of stairs and by the time I finally arrived at the starting line, everyone had already left, and I was already winded.
But the man with the megaphone shouted at me to “Chase after! Chase after!” So, I chased after. I chased the entire Sa-Nguan Ying student body down the street until I caught up and joined the run. (But this is where Thailand and America become same same: I caught up to them within minutes because the kids had all started walking the second they were a block beyond the school gates.)
In a profession that is unpredictable to its core, in a country where the popular belief is just to roll with it, I never really know what’s going on. As a participant in a foreign culture, I think there is not much more I can or should do but accept and adapt.
Sometimes adaptation does become more of a challenge, though. As the school year comes to a close, I’ve found myself struggling with some of the expectations for assigning marks here. I can’t say that I am proud to have set aside some of the professional ethics I have internalized as a teacher in the States, but as a guest in this country and institution, I don’t think it’s my place to judge or try to change the system. So, right or wrong, frustrations aside, I’m just gonna keep going with the flow.
I owe you the deets on the Sa-Nguan Ying School! I feel bad that I haven’t written about teaching yet, but I got started with my little blog guy a bit late, and the good times just keep a-rolling… it is hard for me to catch up! I’m working on it, though. Here’s a brief (?) portrait of my life and times at Sa-Nguan Ying School:
> I work in the Sa-Nguan Ying English Program. The English Program is a high track division of the Sa-Nguan Ying School in which the students are taught all of their subjects in English (except for Thai and Chinese, of course). Students have to place into the school, and then must maintain a 75% in all of their classes in order to stick around.
> I teach Mattium 1 and 3 in the English Program; roughly equivalent to grades 7 and 9 in the United States. Actually, I team-teach with my friend Clare. Because it is an intensive English program, the director of the EP program has us double-teaming the kids with two foreign teachers in each English language classroom. Thus, the kids get more attention and Clare and I get to share the responsibility of planning and delivering lessons. It makes for a much easier work-load than many of our teacher friends throughout Thailand and even in the normal track of Sa-Nguan Ying; and certainly loads lighter than my preparation as a teacher in the United States. On the other hand, as teachers in the English Program we also get much less holiday time and are expected to work late during English camps and test preparation periods.
I feel very lucky to be in the Sa-Nguan Ying EP– the kids are awesome, my colleagues are all so friendly and welcoming. I am also super grateful to be teaching with Clare. We make a good team, and I think that observing her work with the Thai students is helping me to improve my own teaching, specifically my pacing in the classroom. We also get to bounce ideas and jump in when the other is having difficulty explaining a tricky concept. Team-teaching is where it’s at!
>The students here are great. They are all so sweet and bright. Standing in front of a classroom full of their cheerful faces leaves no mystery why Thailand is known as “The Land of Smiles.” Clare and I have one exceptionally cute group of M-3’s who have a penchant for breaking out into song. On our first day in class, they serenaded us with some lines from a Bruno Mars song. That’s another reason why I’m digging this team-teaching. Every teacher has those moments in the classroom when a kid does something utterly ridiculous or makes a comment that comes straight out of left field and you just wish that there was another adult in the room who you could turn to and laugh or roll your eyes with. When the M-3’s break off in a chorus of “Just the Way You Are,” (or whatever the song of the moment is), Clare and I gape at one another from across the room, our laughter saying, “Is this really happening right now?”
> I’ve got a real gem of a roster. Thais are all given nicknames by their parents, and this is usually the name they go by. Many parents choose English words for nicknames, so my roster resembles a bake shop, with a Donut, a Cake, a Mint, a Cherry, and two Pears. I’ve also got an Atom, Rum, Bam Bam, Go-Go, and the sweetest, most smiley little M-1 girl named Gun. And, to this motley crew of pastries, particles, and pistols, I am “Teacher Christine.” Or, more accurately, “Teachaaa Kiisstiiine!”
It is only in the past week, though, that I’ve really begun to master the names of the M-3 classes (I still have a ways to go with my M-1’s who we meet with fewer times each week). I don’t mean to play into stereotypes (but I totally am going to)… they all look the same! Well, that’s not true at all, but they do all wear uniforms and have the EXACT SAME HAIRCUT! There is a regulation length and style, and if their cut isn’t uniform they’ll be sent right down to the teachers’ room where one of my colleagues will take out a pair of scissors and chop chop chop before sending them right on back to class. It’s made it a real challenge to learn names!
students' shoes outside classroom
> Finally, I teach barefoot! Feet are considered to be the lowest part of the body and very dirty, so we’re to leave our shoes in the hallway outside of the English Program office and work in our bare feet all day long. Teaching in Massachusetts, I’d often take my shoes off underneath my desk when I was alone in my classroom, and then scramble to put them on when someone unexpectedly showed up. Now, I keep having momentary brain-lapses where I feel terribly unprofessional for forgetting my shoes. Then, I remember that I’m just following Thai custom and I feel relieved and relaxed in my shoeless feet.
- SY students at Friday morning assembly
Sa-Nguan Ying is a good place. It’s got good energy. The entire SY community has welcomed myself and the other new teachers with open-arms. Last Friday a school-wide assembly was held during which we were presented with bouquets of baby roses, and on Monday we were the guests of honor at an English Program dinner, where we were again introduced and then asked to entertain the room in a karaoke song of our choosing. Bohemian Rhapsody is wayyyyy too long a song to sing in front of a large room of non-English speaking strangers, by the way. Should’ve had hindsight. But sing, we did, and we kept on fighting until the end… of that very… slow… 5 minutes and 55 seconds.
EP karaoke night is supposedly a common occurrence, though. I’ll knock their shoeless-socks off next time with the Barbie Girl song or My Heart Will Go On, or another hit the Thais love!
I guess the slide show was more entertaining than our Queen cover.
To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea… cruising, it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.
“I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.” What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of security. And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine– and before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a man need– really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in– and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all– in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade. The years thunder by, the dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed. Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?
-Sterling Hayden
A veteran teacher and globe-trotter at the high school I teach at printed this quote, from Sterling Hayden’s The Wanderer. He slipped it to me in the hallway last September, shortly after my return from my summer adventure in Ecuador. It remained posted to the cork bulletin by my desk until today, and my friend’s words still sing in my ears. “Some people figure it out too late,” he said “but you’re already there. You’re already doing it.”
There isn’t anything wrong with the quote-unquote routine traverse. I come from a family that was always able to provide for me. This is the reason that I am not shackled by college loans or buried beneath the pyramid of time payments, and they are the safety net that I know would catch me if somehow my vessel were to sink. And I know that I want a family of my own someday, and that I want to give my children the same opportunity to boldly pursue their dreams.
Still, I feel that pull of the south seas, and I know that, right now, I cannot afford not to go. Security someday, yes. But right now I am young and I am free and I fear that if I do not set sail, my dreams will follow in the wake of expectation my entire life.
This week I gave my official resignation at work. I’ve heard that I am crazy to quit my job in this economy, but I think that I might be crazier not to. The time to go after your dreams is always “now,” and as my wise friend has assured me, I’m already doing it. So, goodbye Boston, cya lata stable income, and good night old woman whispering “hush.” Hello to my adventure.
Chronicles of a Travel-Bug 