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Published: August 8th 2009
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I am a high school teacher. I am a foreign language high school teacher. I failed 2 different foreign languages in high school about 7 years ago. There are moments when walking through the halls and I am greeted as a teacher I have to smile to myself. I never imagined I would be a high school teacher.
Zandy, Brittney, and I all landed jobs at the same school back in April. I teach over 500 hundred students a week at Watchirawit Secondary School. Watchirawit is a private school, and a second rate private school at that. Some of my experiences are probably true of teaching anywhere, some only in Thailand, and many only at my beloved Watchirawit. From day one, two things have been clear: nothing is consistent and image trumps everything. Having tour bus style school buses is more important than having proper text books. And having an A in the grade book is more important than actually learning. In fact, students do not need to learn anything at all to pass. Everyone passes. If a student fails their final they will retake it. When they retake it the teacher will essentially tell them the answers. If they
Class 5/3
all Thais flash peace signs when posing fail for a second time the teacher will simply bump the grade up to passing. Many will not even bother with a retest because they know they will have to pass them regardless. Classes are canceled at a moments notice, or more likely no notice at all. Lesson plans are due in one week, then not due at all, then due in ten minutes. Just when I think that I have deciphered the top from the bottom they are switched again, and the message that it has switched may or may not be delivered. One of my favorite Thai co workers recently laughed as he explained the school’s communication system “You have been abandoned on a ship! It is like you do not exist!”
During my own high school experience there was a sense that someone was in control of things, and that someone certainly was not me. Here, it is a different story. Students rule all. We must try to keep the poor little things happy at all times. School should be fun! We should cancel classes to have concerts and magic shows! You can not give them bad grades; it will make them feel bad! Give them
the answers to tests; actually learning is too hard! Over and over we are told not to expect much of our students and to generally roll along with strange antics from students and staff alike.
At home teachers have classrooms and students have to hustle to get from class to class. And when they enter each room it is Mr. Johnson’s or Mrs. Smith’s turf. Here the classroom belongs to the students and the teachers are the ones shuffling through the halls carrying piles of notebooks during passing periods. Students stay in the same classroom with the same classmates all year, in many cases, year after year. For students it might be high school heaven. Each class has its own personality. Some are angels (5/4), some have phenomenal persuasion skills and can always convince me to have free-time (5/1), some have a dozen gay boys (4/10), some simply can not be bothered to pay attention or do homework, but can pull together awesome sing-a-longs and massage trains (5/3), and nearly all of them have at least one guitar.
We have been teaching for 3 months and I just now feel like I am getting the hang of it.
Teacher Vanessa
In the office. Tuesdays we wear pink. Most days are still filled with mass confusion but now I am just used to being abandoned on the ship. Thinking back to that first week of work we have come a very long way. During one of her first classes Zandy stood in the middle of her class amongst chaos. A full on paper war had broken out. She had already developed a raspy voice from yelling over her students. She stood there, defeated, as paper flew about and hit her. This has come to be only one of many classroom wars that Zandy has lived through. The rest have all been baby powder wars. That first week we each felt as if we were Michelle Pfeiffer in Dangerous Minds, except our students are younger, Thai, and armed with unimaginably loud voices and baby powder.
My classes range from 17 to 55 students. Most of them have about 45. My two classes under 20 students are English reading and writing. The rest are English conversation classes which come with way more students and a Thai co teacher. Most of my classes are with Mantyom 5 (juniors) and a few with M. 4 (sophmores). When teaching so many classes and students one needs to be very organized. Classes are constantly canceled for various ceremonies and activities. I had been teaching for 3 weeks and had not even met one of my classes because that time slot kept being canceled. My organization skills had not kicked in yet. The first time I ever saw these students I had no idea it was the first time we were meeting each other. I walked in animated and excited saying “Today we are going to play a game!” No ice breakers no “I am Teacher Vanessa, this is your English conversation class.” Nothing. Just “Today we are going to pay a game!” And we played a game. It took me an entire week to realize what happened. When I realized and asked my Thai co teacher if this was what had really happened she laughed and confirmed saying that all the students were asking her in Thai “Who is this? What class is this? What is going on?” This is just one of many examples of the ammunition my students have for laughing and thinking I am one batty farang.
Working with this age group brings one right back to the insecurities of high school. I constantly think I hear them talking about me. We have all learned not to jump to conclusions about what they are talking about. One day Brittney was overly aware of a pimple on her cheek, so when a student was saying something she did not understand and was pointing at their own cheek she of course thought they were commenting on her blemish. With some effort she figured out they were talking about a tooth problem. Students do talk about us though. They notice everything we do. When we spell a word wrong on the board, or wear the same skirt two days in a row, they notice. And they unapologetically laugh at our attempt to say their names and to speak Thai. They are intimidating little bastards. During one of my first classes I was attempting to pronounce a name that was completely foreign to me. Suddenly I was startled by a girl making a noise which can not be captured on the page. It was a fast and loud “LALALALALALALALALALALA.” Her tongue was moving at an unnatural speed. It sounded demented, and I was sure that it was meant to make fun of my Thai abilities. I was terrified. I could not address it. I tried to pretend it did not happen. As the weeks went by and I became more comfortable in the class room I heard it again. This time many students were doing it in a toned down fashion. I started doing it. “LALALALALA What does this mean!? LALALALALA Why are you doing that!?” Now the farang is making crazy noises too. They laughed per usual. Then one boy explained “Her name is Lalaladida.” That’s right I have a student named la-la-la-di-da. I have heard this noise many times since then and know that it can not always be referring to this name, but still have no idea what it means.
“LALALALALA” is just one of many things I do not understand. I do not speak Thai. I basically know a handful of words and phrases. My students know this. And most of them do not speak much English. Communicating is interesting. Challenging and hilarious, and sometimes simply impossible. So I am not the only one who is always confused. We may all be abandoned on the ship, let’s just hope it does not sink anytime soon. If it does we will float off on our half-assed text books and senses of humor.
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