Down With School

This week has been a unique one, but (for once) not because of any wild adventures. This weekend was the first Saturday that I spent at home, since my school was hosting a school fair. Our coordinators requested a repeat performance of the highly esteemed “traditional” line dance, “Cotton Eyed Joe,” and this time one of our students did a little solo.

(photo by Timothy McLaughlin)

Once again, we were asked to stand behind a booth and be the token farangs when the dean of the school walked by. I have begun to realize that that part of the reason our school brought us here is as western trophies; our coordinator has already admitted that she hired us because we were young, beautiful American women. Our school is very concerned about exuding an air of prestige, and having young Western teachers is a status symbol for Thai schools. Most of the time, the manner in which they put us on display is absurd but amusing. Earlier this week were asked to record a video for a karaoke version of school anthem (even though we butchered it because we can’t speak Thai), several weeks ago we were asked to help host a World Quiz competition even though the teachers hosting it didn’t need our help (the school wanted us to sit there and look nice for the pictures), and they always send us on school field trips even though we can never help with the planning or discipline (they want other schools to note the farang teachers our school has). I definitely don’t mind when they show us off, as long as I can still get my job done, but I’m starting to experience a disparity between appearance and substance that occasionally turns from amusing to annoying.

The school fair this weekend was a perfect example of my façade vs. fact concern. The kids, teachers, and coordinators have been frantically preparing for this festival for weeks, and almost all else was sacrificed in its name. Tons of my English classes were cancelled for “dance practice” or “fair decorating,” often without any warning to me (I can’t count how many times this week I walked into an empty classroom).

Why was this festival so much more important than class? Because the wealthy parents of our students would be there. It was more important for the school to seem put together through tight-nit dance routines and impeccable school ceremonies, than for the students to actually be in class during the week. I’m not saying it wasn’t worth the effort; The parents were proudly snapping hundreds of pictures on their digital SLRs, and the children looked painfully adorable in their Thai garb, sparkly dresses and princess up-dos hairsprayed to perfection. But this is a school, shouldn’t academia come first?

Sometimes I feel like my legs are cut out from under me as a teacher because of my inability to discipline, let alone see my children on a regular basis. My school name is fairly renowned, and we are a language academy, but a fair percentage of my students have little to no grasp of English. When I first arrived here it perplexed me, considering my school’s funding and status, but I’ve begun to realize that all the resources in the world don’t necessarily make a fine school. I really don’t want to be any harsher on my school than I need to, I wouldn’t work here for another semester if I felt like I was wasting my time, but it’s definitely something that needs to be addressed on a larger scale.

On Friday we had a reunion dinner in Bangkok hosted by my teaching program, and we discussed how to discipline students when there is no substance behind our requests. My main example: I cannot fail my students. If they don’t pass a test, I need to re-test them. If they don’t show up for the re-test… well, I need to return to rule number 1: I cannot fail my students. It goes against every grain in my body to pass students who didn’t earn it it, especially after I gave up my lunch period waiting for 18 different students to never show up for a re-test. Cheating is also acceptable here. Kids cheat all the time, on everything, and teachers always look the other way. As long as they pass, their parents are happy, and the school is happy.

I don’t blame the students. Any normal teenager would slack off if they knew it was impossible to fail. I know I’m betraying young people around the world when I say things like this, but students need some sort of discipline and boundaries. If they can slip by, they will. It’s just the nature of being a kid. The responsibility for the mixed messages kids receive lies in the system, which doesn’t inspire personal motivation. I truly believe all of my coordinators care about the students and want the best for our school, but they are stuck in this appearances over reality mentality that I acknowledge is partially cultural, but really damages things internally.

That being said, I don’t claim to have all the solutions. I also don’t want to dwell on cynicism; I still think I’m making a difference simply by being here, speaking English to my students, repeating things so many times that something is bound to stick. And all this being said, I had a damn fine weekend. I caught up on a lot of sleep, and really assessed where I am at this point in Thailand. The things I’m finding significant here are completely unexpected. Ain’t that the greatest?

Something About Samet

So for the long weekend (thank you, Constitution day) I finally experienced the white sand beaches associated with the vacation-destination side of Thailand. Ko Samet (some people say “Ko Samed,” I say Thai names simply don’t translate well into English) pretty much embodied island living; plenty shacks and bars on the beach, locals on motorbikes with shaggy hair, and just enough tourists to maintain a resort-y feel but not feel too congested.



We stayed in Saikaew Villa, on what was by far the busiest beach yet felt deserted compared to other popular tropical destinations. The villa where we stayed made its own yogurt, which I have admittedly become addicted to in this country (again, without cheese, I take what I can get). Beach vendors walked down the hot beach selling fruit and sarongs, and they were all covered from head to toe—this was, of course, to avoid becoming too dark therefore unattractive according to Thai standards. Kind of funny, considering that most of the tourists were there to get a decent tan.

Further down the coast, the beach was emptier. There was a nice cove with a raft floating off the shore and an impromptu soccer game with both tourists and locals participating. At night, the trusty Thai obsession with all things ablaze kicked in, and the beach was lit up with multi-colored lights and fire spinners. It was relaxing to finally have a weekend where we weren’t waking up early to fulfill some sight-seeing plan. My “planning” in Ko Samet usually consisted of “maybe I’ll move down the beach at some point” or “perhaps I should shower today.”


On Saturday I finally found an exception to my ability to eat anything, when something (god knows what) caused me to empty my stomach in the middle of the night. I haven’t been sick since arriving, but feeling nausea and stomach pains in the heat of Thailand was different than any illness I’ve ever experienced. I blame food poisoning, but I can’t really be sure. All I know is that I was really thankful I had good friends and people who cared around, because otherwise Saturday night might have devolved into an evening of “why the hell am I here in this hot country that makes me sick where bugs keep biting me etc. etc.” I haven’t felt very pessimistic about Thailand yet, but it’s easy to deteriorate into negativity when you feel like crap.

I’m back to the school grind today, again satisfied with the weekend in spite of my smaller stomach. Since last week we attended a field trip followed by a long break, I already feel like I’ve forgotten how to teach. Some of the older students are finally more relaxed around me, and I feel like kind of a jerk for knowing so few of their names. It’s really difficult for me to retain such unfamiliar sounds, not to mention that I teach about 20 different classes and many Thai people have insanely long names. I’m also trying to get used to the word “porn” in student’s names—Nattaporn, Pornmanus, Tanaporn—in Thailand, “porn” means beautiful… yeah, close enough.

I’m trying to develop a new strategy for my problem classes. I teach a class in prathom six (grade 6) that my fellow teachers coined the “crack children” because the students literally crawl up the walls, run around the classroom, and shout at the top of their lungs for the entire period. I’ve been forced to walk out of class once because I was literally losing my voice and nothing would control them with the exception of a large net and some tranquilizer darts.

I’m learning better ways to get through to them, but in some cases it’s not possible. Some children have slid through their academic career copying off their friends and hiding in the back of class, so they literally don’t know English; at this point, I can’t communicate with them unless they come to me directly. There are others, however, who are good at English, want to be, or just need a little push in order to bring forth their abilities. Sometimes I forget that these kids are all covering complex subjects like calculus because their English is still at an elementary level. It takes a one-on-one conversation for me to remember how intelligent they are, and that what’s inhibiting them is language, not a lack of aptitude. And that’s why I’m here.

Scuba Diving, Part Neung

You are now reading the words of a certified open water scuba diver. Yeah, staaaand back.


This weekend was my first scuba dive (actually, dives) and I’m pretty much hooked. Our launching point was Pattaya, also known as Sin City. It certainly lived up to its name, but I went there knowing what to expect so I never experienced that initial feeling of aversion many people have described. And considering that I’m a difficult person to offend, I actually found couple aspects of Pattaya I enjoyed. It featured the neon lights and sleaze of a city like Vegas, but still maintained the gritty, outdoor authenticity of a Thai metropolis that I can never quite articulate but I always find comforting in its candidness. And Pattaya certainly is candid; the city wears sex and gambling on its sleeve, and people traveling there know exactly what they’ll find. Most importantly for me, Pattaya had a beach and a boat waiting to take me out in the morning for my first dive.

I was still adjusting to my heavy equipment during the pool dive last week, but during the open water dives this weekend it didn’t seem quite as clunky. Granted, wearing scuba equipment on land will never be graceful; the heavy tank pulls me backwards, my face is smothered by a mask and regulator, and I’m forced to waddle thanks to the awkwardly large flippers. But the moment I descend underwater, I feel pretty much weightless, and the gear becomes an afterthought. Granted, I still need to work on my buoyancy, my kicking, and my general fluidity, but being in water has always felt natural to me, and breathing underwater almost felt like the next logical step.

My first dive was an hour and a half off the coast, at a small island called Ko Wichaia. Visibility was poor in diving standards, but the moment I caught my first glimpse of coral and schools of fish, I felt like I’d entered a different world. I’ve spent my life in the ocean, and I’ve snorkeled before, but somehow with scuba I felt like I was floating through a foreign space. The complete silence of the ocean, the calm of my instructor, and the smooth movements of everything through water seemed to make time become fluid as well. After surfacing Steve asked how long we thought we’d been underwater—Ross guessed 15 minutes, I guessed only about 10. It turns out we were under for 36 minutes, but the experience felt so concentrated our perception was completely distorted. I can’t remember the last time my estimate of time was so warped by an intense experience.


Steve spent each dive practicing skills we’d learned in the pool, but allowed for a little time to look around. The low visibility definitely forced everyone to be acutely aware of where others were at all times, and I think it will benefit me to have that experience under my belt. In between dives we ate lunch on the boat and enjoyed the salty breeze of the ocean as we swayed next to an island. I can see how this becomes a lifestyle for some people.


On Sunday we dove by an island called Ko Rin, and a tiny offshoot island called North Rock. Visibility had improved that day, and the water was warm and blue. The coral was a little more diverse, and I felt even more comfortable with a smaller BCD and a better balance of weights. I passed my final review test with flying colors, and left the boat with my open water diving certification.


The whole weekend left me feeling generally satisfied and eager for what’s next. Learning through my cousin Steve was probably the best situation I could have hoped for; I was working with someone familiar, so I felt comfortable the entire time. He’s already offered to take me on a dive in Phuket during winter break, which will be much clearer water and more interesting marine life.

So I’m adding scuba diving to the list of things I probably wouldn’t have gotten around to in the States. I can't believe the amount of things I've done in less than two months. Thailand is starting to feel like an energy drink that never runs out of steam, and I've decided to be careful not to burn myself out (I’m amazed it hasn’t happened yet). I’m leaving tomorrow for a long weekend trip to Ko Samet, an island not too far off the coast, and I plan to do nothing but melt into white sand with a Singha beer in one hand and a book in the other.

Photos of Ayutthaya

Today our school took us on a field trip to Ayutthaya, the longest capital of Thailand (although at the time it was technically a Siamese kingdom). The kingdom existed from 1351 to 1767 until it was invaded by the Burmese. In fact, most of Ayutthaya's history seems to relate to staving off Burma's attacks. We saw a lot of temples, ruins and monks, including the female version of a monk, who is technically called a Buddhist nun (she was an American, originally from New Jersey).

Due to my time constraints, this is going to be a picture post. Enjoy!