1 week down, 156739 more to go

Disclaimer:

I apologize in advance for the long-winded nature of my first post. It should be read in 3 or more sittings. Bathroom breaks and catnaps are encouraged between the long meandering rants that don't seem to have a punchline or a focus. This post encompasses the first 2 weeks of Thailand. And should pretty well catch you up to speed.

Having survived my first week in the classroom, I have appropriately changed my website address from markusonmoostreet à itamethaikidsformoney. My time in Thailand has been exactly what I had hoped for thus far. I've done a fair share of the touristy stuff including an elephant ride, a float trip down the River Kwae, and sightseeing at a bunch of temples. But that was week 1, all part of the “Teach in Thailand” 2009 program orientation. For the most part it took place at a hotel in Bangkok where 90 other farang stayed (farang is the term that the Thai people have for white people, or anyone else that looks lost for that matter). Orientation felt a lot like Disneyland because the 91 farang formed an American enclave. We had our own culture and spoke our own language; we basically made no attempt to assimilate to our surroundings. Our borders were fluid and fluctuated when we travelled beyond the hotel confines. As long as I didn’t leave the enclave, I wasn’t at risk of having to speak Thai or leave my comfort zone. It was fun getting to know all of the teachers because for the most part they were all likeminded 22-26 year olds who liked to experience new things and had fun and unique personalities. So I didn’t mind the Disneyland atmosphere while I built a network of people that I could visit and stay with that extended past Thawangpha’s city limits. Our enclave did however have an expiration date, and it was the 28^th of October.

After a week of language, culture, and classroom "training" seminars at the hotel, Tyler, Jesse and I boarded a night bus to Thawangpha. It was a long uneventful bus ride, and all three of us were whipped from a long week of partying and sightseeing. Once we arrived in Thawangpha, the bus dropped us off at the marketplace in town, which could accurately be described as the epicenter of the downtown. Once we got off the bus with our luggage, we called a couple phone numbers that were written on the back of an envelope. These were the instructions I had received from my program coordinator during orientation. After no answer from both numbers, I got a call back shortly from a teacher saying that she'd pick us up. We waited for 20-30 minutes in the parking lot with our luggage. It must have looked pretty funny to onlookers: three disoriented white guys in the middle of the market, trying to make sense of where in the heck we were, what was going on around us, and what to do from that point forward. I’d bet we still had the pillow lines across our faces from sleeping on the bus at that point. Our situation reminds me of the cats that run on to the outfield during baseball games. They are completely out of their element, they don’t know how they got there, where to go next, and the onlookers are baffled and slightly amused by the whole situation. Going into this program, I was aware that I would be an endangered species in Thawangpha. I was pleasantly surprised to learn later that there is actually a fourth farang in the community: Me, Tyler, and Jesse being three, and the fourth is Michelle the community peace corp volunteer that works at the primary school. I have met her briefly, and she seems pretty cool. Once things calm down a bit, I’ll give her a shout. Its been a pretty tough transition going from orientation where guys were outnumbered by girls 4 to 1, to having no American girls at all. I’m sure in the next week or two as this fact sets in, I might be glad I’ve got her number.

Classes started on a Saturday. A bit unconventional, but it seems to fit the trend of the school. Stuff just kind of comes at you, and you have to do the best you can to deal with it. Performing daily 2-minute skits every morning at the flag raising ceremony in front of 1,800 kids is one of those curveballs the guys and I have been tossed. Another, more enjoyable curveball was when I was asked (or rather told) to help out in the Province-wide English competition between secondary schools (imagine an academic track meet). Leading up to the event, I was a speech tutor to a shy little 8^th grader named “Nut”. On the day of the competition my role changed as I was asked to be a judge for the storytelling event. There were several events on the day, but I was judging storytelling (5-7 minute orated stories by memory) at the High School level. Imagine the setup for American Idol. 3 judges to a panel. A contestant walks up all alone, and they put their best foot forward- telling the best story they know how to tell. Unfortunately, unlike Simon Cowell, I didn’t have the right to stop them 15 seconds into their speech and tell them they aren’t going to move on, that “that was the WORST attempt at the 3 little pigs I have ever heard!” and that they “Should never under any circumstances try to speak the English language ever again!” Instead I sat patiently with a straight face (usually) and critiqued for the 5-7 minute duration until the student was finished. Some were pretty painful to sit through, but there were some students whose performances I really enjoyed. I loved seeing how animated the students got, and the story selections that were made. My favorite was the abbreviated version of Romeo and Juliet. Cutting a Shakespeare play to less than 7 minutes is no easy task if you’re going to do it justice. She did the Mercrutio sword duel, the family drama, and the suicides among some other key scenes. It was kind of the baseball tonight version of Shakespeare… She did it in dramatic fashion, running around getting into character, acting out the scenes, and she ended the story sprawled out on the floor as a dying Juliet. The only thing missing was fake blood. Some spur-the-moment curves thrown my way have turned out to be pleasant surprises, this being one of them. Plus I was fed ample amounts of Phad Thai during the lunch break, YAHTZEE.

Back to talking about classes. The first week was comprised of me feeling out my classes, getting a sense of what the students know, introducing myself, and figuring out what classes are going to be the demanding ones. After a week, I’ve come to the conclusion that the discipline system they have in place at this school pretty well guarantees that the kids wear the pants. If they are out of line, there’s no detention to threaten them with, no lunch duty, no immediate consequence that they fear to my knowledge. At times it feels like I am a staff member at a really well dressed daycare of 1,800. Anything goes in the classroom. The only rule the administration seems to be adamant on is the tucking in of the shirt rule. Kids can hawk loogies out the windows mid-lecture, walk out of class at any given moment, throw paper, or just shout random Thai words at will. But God forbid one of their shirts becomes untucked. There’s no telling what kind of anarchy that might follow. One of the few things that I learned in my orientation that I've confirmed with the thai teachers on staff here is that if there's one thing you don’t do as a teacher, its raise your voice, or lose your temper with a student. There’s a cultural stigma against it. The students and faculty have quickly cast past “yellers” aside as the tactless, hot-tempered American. Learning to work around these cultural confines is going to take some getting used to.

The big picture isn’t completely hopeless though. There is a silver lining. The good classes are a joy, and they eat up everything I teach. The lower levels that have no interest in learning English are whom the prior paragraph was geared to. These classes in particular can be impossible to control on certain days, let alone teach to. I've adopted the local equivalent of the term "hakuna matata". It’s called "mai pen rai"; it means “don’t worry”, or “its no problem”. I say this to myself during and after the tough classes. If they don't want to learn, I'm not going to chase after them or shout to get their attention. It sounds a bit harsh, but you can drive yourself crazy if your daily expectations are unrealistic. If you wake up thinking that you can tame the kids who have been conditioned to be wild, you will go home frustrated day after day. My game plan is teach to those who want to listen, don’t worry about the others. Let em’ run wild and fail a few tests, maybe later they’ll change their tune. If not, mai pen rai.