One Saturday evening, Jon and Film took me to a triple birthday party. Of the three men celebrating the passing of another year, I was acquainted with two. One of the birthday-ees was the fifth grade teacher at my small school, Krue (teacher) Piirat. Piirat is a rather unusual looking fellow by any standards, but particularly in Thailand. He is jollily rotund with freckles, a mustache, and a short ponytail- none of which I have ever seen on another Thai person. At the party, he continually asked me if I was drunk yet, when I was clearly drinking only water, and was merciless in his attempts to make me eat more of the field rat curry. Many of Jon’s friends were there, as well as people I knew from around the village. But, one man was conspicuously absent, Ay. Ay was Jon’s close friend and a member of our biking group. We had biked together every day for months when suddenly he disappeared. I asked Jon where he went, and was told that Ay was sick. It wasn’t until this Saturday night that I found out it was brain cancer, and Ay only had a few days left to live, if that. I promised to go visit him with Jon and Film the next morning. We entered Ay’s house to find a gaggle of women keeping vigil on the floor (traditional Thai houses have very little furniture), next to a pile of blankets. It took me a minute to realize Ay was underneath them, laid out to rest on a mat. Naturally slight, the illness rendered him emaciated, and all I could see among the fabric were sunken cheek bones. He was not conscious, but we talked to him just the same. True to Thai culture, there were no displays of emotion, but rather every effort was made to ensure his comfort. He passed away later that night.
I arrived at school the next morning to find all the teachers dressed in black. Normally on Mondays, we wear white as a sign of Buddhist purity, and the hushed voices told me something was wrong. Apparently over the weekend, three eighth grade students on a motor scooter were hit by a car- two boys and one girl. One student had been killed, while the other two remained in the hospital. The cremation ceremony was the next day. That night, I went with Jon and Film to the wat for the first day of Ay’s funeral. I’ve been to multiple Thai funerals before, but never of someone I had known. As we lit our incense stick s in front of the shrine and listened to the monks chant, I focused my mind on Ay’s memory and saying goodbye to a man who had been kind and welcoming to me.
The next day, I spent hours helping my sixth graders prepare for Wednesday’s regional academic competition. The Thais take these competitions very seriously and everyone was freaking out over various projects and preparations. My students were going to perform an English skit of Cinderella, which Pii Som renamed “Cinderula” for some reason. Moments of the skit preparation were fun, such as training a puberty aged boy to be an evil stepsister and orchestrating the final kiss scene, where Cindy had to “kiss” a prince charming a foot shorter and 40 pounds lighter. These moments aside, Pii Som and I were continually at odds all day. While I was encouraging the students to have fun and be silly with the skit, and she was yelling at them for not memorizing their lines fast enough. Som can be impatient with the students. She blames them for not learning fast enough or not understanding, when really the responsibility lies with her, for not teaching them adequately. She kept exclaiming how unintelligent and slow they were in front of them, for simply forgetting a line or not reading dramatically enough. I felt she was being unfair and mean, and she felt if she didn’t insult them, they wouldn’t practice hard enough. It was a tense afternoon. I coped by giving the kids big smiles and thumbs up whenever she wasn’t looking.
School closed an hour early that day for the cremation ceremony. There was a big crowd. At the end, as per tradition, everyone takes a flower, walks up the stairs onto the platform of the crematorium, and places it in front of the coffin. Crossing the platform, I caught a glimpse of the deceased student’s picture, standing next to the coffin. It was a girl, not a boy as Pii Som had told me, and a girl I knew. I stood there in shock, shaken and disoriented. I knew the girl, she was one of the first students to reach out and talk to me on my first day at school, when I was overwhelmed and being treated like an alien by a majority of the students. She was a smart kid with a chance of a future beyond rice farming, and the surprise of seeing her face next to the coffin rather than the anonymous boy I was expecting pushed my already teetering emotions over the edge. I put on my sunglasses and walked away from the crowd, breathing deeply and trying desperately not to cry as the teachers discussed the lack of food options at the funeral. That night, I went to the second night of Ay’s funeral. Three funerary events in 24 hours was more than I could take.
Wednesday morning, I woke up before dawn to go to the academic competition. All the teachers from Thangam school went together in Piirat’s pick-up truck, the windows of which were stuck in the down position. I sat shivering and miserable in the back of the truck for 2 hours as we wound through mountains. By the time we arrived, I was in less than a good mood and had a cold. I declined the offer of sticky rice and dried spicy pork (at 8 am) and dragged Orasa off with me in search of a hot beverage. We scrounged up coffee and then checked in. I was pegged to be a judge for the impromptu speech competition, and upon check-in, was informed my time slot was switched to the morning, which meant I would miss my kids performing Cinderella. I had worked with them for hours, revising and translating the script, helping them with emotions, providing costumes, and I was counting on viewing the final result. But no, instead I had to sit and listen to 15 students tell me in broken English the “notable” places in Phitsanulok province.
When things wrapped up, I took the lunch box they gave me with (surprise surprise) rice and a bag of curry, and set off to meet the teachers and students at our picnic site. Of course I dropped my curry bag on the way. The Wheel of Fortune had fallen from my smoking-project-success-loving-site high to an I-have-a-cold-and-hate-everyone-low. Plus I felt like crap. After lunch, I tried to feign interest and walk around the school, scouting other competition categories, but all the people and stares quickly overwhelmed me in my current state of mind. I felt unhinged, once again on the verge of tears. I asked Orasa if I could sit in a quiet corner somewhere and she installed me under a tree near the nurse’s office. I sat in blissful isolation for two hours, napping in the sun and reading Dostoyevsky. By the time she fetched me, my spirits were higher.
The next day was Thanksgiving. I imagine I would have felt homesick anyway- imagining my family and friends snug at home and gorging themselves on turkey, mashed potatoes, and pie- and the struggles of the week and my cold only made it worse. The difference in the way I dealt with the deaths of two people who mattered to me (namely to display emotion) and the way the Thais deal with it (saying that to cry is to behave like a child) made me feel more like an outsider than I had in a long time. I felt a gaping disconnect between me and the people in my village. They couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to be thousands of miles away from home on Thanksgiving, and that made me feel sad, distant, and a little resentful. I tried to explain Thanksgiving, but with my limited Thai, I only managed to convey we give thanks for our family, something vague about Indians and people from England, and that we worship giant chickens.
Fortunately, that weekend was the Unofficial Peace Corps Bangkok Thanksgiving Sizzler Extravaganza. My journey down started off an a high note when I made a bus driver and an entire bus of people wait 15 minutes for Kelsi to arrive from Sukothai. As soon as we were seated, I broke down in tears about my miserable week, and after a few snacks, promptly fell asleep. I crashed at the PC lounge that night, along with a big group of last year’s volunteers who were in BKK for their “Close of Service Conference”. They brought books and DVDs to pass on, and I happily pounced on the newly refreshed library, grabbing novels by Nabakov, Phillip Roth, and Thomas Hardy before anyone else could. I also found a salmon pink homecoming dress in the “donated clothes” box and wore it into the wee hours of the morning. The next day, Beau and I took the sky train out to Chatuchak market, a labyrinthine mix of booths that sell everything from stolen shoes to incense to puppies. We turned our market stroll into a beer crawl, and then met the rest of our friends for a night out.
Saturday morning was the Gender and Development Committee election. I ran for chair, and at the time of publication do not know if I was chosen or not. That afternoon, we held an informal Thanskgiving-esque sports day in Lumphini Park. Unfortunately, a pudgy Thai policewomen had a serious problem with us playing football on the grass, and said if we didn’t stop, we would be kicked out. And by “us playing football”, I mean I was lying on a mat on the side, eating fruit and listening to the guitar. The Sizzler dinner was quite the spectacle, with 60 volunteers descending en masse onto the unsuspecting patrons of the Thong Lo Sizzler. The food was less than delicious, but they sold actual wine and the “chocolate mousse” tasted ok if you mixed it with the “raspberry mousse” and covered them both in whipped cream. It felt American, and that is what mattered. A rooftop sky bar, impromptu dance party, English language movie, and trip to the foreign food grocery store helped squelch my homesickness. After a few days of good, old fashioned American fun, my equilibrium was back. And I can now check “going to Sizzler” off my bucket list.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Post 24: Smoking has a Bad Smell
The Impetus
Back in June, the teachers and I made a list of the problems facing our school. Through conversations and questionnaires, it became clear that one of the biggest issues is juvenile delinquency. Most of the students come from poor, farming families, and either have parents who are very young or absent. As I may have mentioned before, it is common for people in their twenties to leave the village in search of work, regardless of whether or not they have children. Many students thus live with their grandparents, who are for the most part too old to be diligent caretakers. There is not a ready supply of role models or guiding hands, and the kids have a fair degree of freedom. Furthermore, many students believe that they are going to become rice farmers anyway, so school is not important. All these factors lead to behavioral issues. I have 11 year old students who ask me for smoke breaks and get drunk on weekends. Yaa baa, or methamphetamine, is on the rise, which leads to fights and theft. Many girls do not continue their education past 9th grade due to pregnancy.
Part of the problem is ignorance. There is no anti-drug or sex education in Thai schools. For boys, smoking and drinking are promoted as signs of masculinity, and often fathers will have no qualms if their teenage son downs whiskey or smokes a cig every now and then. That smoking is addictive, and exponentially more so if begun at a young age, is unknown. When the teachers lecture their 7th graders about not smoking, they say it is because smoking is smelly and impolite for girls. Cancer and other side effects are not brought into the equation. These kids have no-one giving them substantive, factual information. American students had sex ed and D.A.R.E. Granted, many American teenagers begin smoking and sleeping around at shockingly young ages, but at least they are aware of the consequences of their actions, and will not find themselves surprised at pregnancy or emphysema in their 40s because they simply did not know. Health education is a powerful thing, empowering students to make their own informed decisions, and in my opinion desperately needed in Thai schools.
I decided to work on developing a sex ed/D.A.R.E. like program for the middle schoolers, where a few times a year, the school would hold an educational seminar on a relevant topic, to spread accurate information, raise awareness, and open up discussions. My list if topics ranged from personal hygiene to rape prevention to HIV/AIDS. I decided to make the pilot project “anti-smoking”, because it was relevant, uncontroversial, and I know Pii Som cared about it. I began pushing for the campaign at the end of the first term, hoping that if I sowed the seeds well enough we could kick off term two incorporating health into the curriculum. I mentioned it every day, and usually received lukewarm responses in return. But as soon as I returned to site after my vacation, Pii Som asked me to pick a date. We selected November 19th, and cross-checked the date with the school’s director and the hospital staff.
At first, I felt a sense of disbelief at first that I was actually able to do a project which my school supported. It seemed too good to be true; none of the usual obstacles stood in my way. I heard horror stories during training of volunteers whose counterparts did not support their projects, and thus disabled them from executing any successfully. Pii Som was willing, or at least obliged me, in translating multiple documents and helped me write the formal project proposal/budget to give the school’s director. Additionally, many volunteers have problems finding funding. I specifically designed the project so money would not be an obstacle, and the school had sufficient money in the budget. The whole thing cost under $100.
Another dreaded Peace Corps legend is of the volunteer who spent 6 months planning a project to have it canceled the day before, or have no-one show up. Lucky for me, the staff at the local hospital seemed excited about the project and motivated to help. I wanted to include the hospital staff as a way to expand the project community wide, as well as imbue it with credibility. The teachers are constantly lecturing the students about one thing or another, which the students generally ignore. However, if health “professionals” are explaining to the students the health consequences of smoking, the kids are more likely to believe it and listen. My main challenge with the hospital staff was their lack of knowledge on the topic- they were not well-versed in smoking-related diseases and health effects. I remedied this by creating an informational packet with a description of each topic and activity; a list of 15 smoking-related facts, including smoking in general, smoking in Thailand, and youth smoking; and an outline of the various health-related consequences, from lung cancer to addiction to gum decay. The fact that cigarettes are addictive was a surprise to many. It felt bizarre that me, a 23 year-old with no background in health was teaching hospital staff about the symptoms of emphysema, but there is so little access to health education in the villages that many people genuinely do not know basic things, like washing hands staves off disease, eating massive amounts of deep fried white rice is not good nutrition, and smoking can kill you.
The project
I structured the seminar around 4 rotations: long-term health consequences, short-term health effects, temptation and refusal skills (saying no) and spreading information. There were 160 students total, and thus 40 kids per rotation. I designed each rotation myself, but the people from the hospital would lead them. The first rotation focused on lung cancer, oral cancer, emphysema, and cardiovascular disease. I created a poster and flashcards with the name of the diseases, their symptoms, and [gruesome] pictures. After reviewing the poster, the kids were divided into groups. Each group received an envelope with the flashcards and pictures all jumbled up. The task was to reassemble the diseases, symptoms, and images. It put the kids face to face with what smoking can do to the body, and made th`em consider each illness individually.
The second rotation focused on short-term health effects, primarily lung damage, shortness of breath, addiction, and tooth and gum decay. I had a range of activities planned. My favorite was a “gross mouth” contest, where the students could use a smorgasbord of gummies, dried fruit, raisins, chocolates, and cookies to make their mouths look as if they were rotting. There was also a demonstration of smoking’s effect on the lungs, where a cigarette was stuck through a hole in an empty water bottle filled with cotton balls. By squeezing the bottle, the air flow simulates inhaling and exhaling, and the cotton balls turn brown. The students also breathed through straws and coffee stirrers to simulate shortness of breath. In the “Saying No” rotation, the students played a game where they refused toffees (it is difficult to explain) and then talked about peer pressure. Finally, small groups students had to make informational posters with what they learned and why they shouldn’t smoke. This was meant as a way for the students to process the information, as well as create something tangible to look at after the seminar was over and use to teach the younger students.
Pii Som and I went to multiple meetings at the hospital to brief the hospital staff and I spent hours and hours working on posters and the rotation activities at school and at home. I felt a huge sense of responsibility, because this project was my idea, I cared deeply that the students learn from it, and I wanted it to be the first of many. If it was a disaster, that could be the end to my grand vision of a health curriculum. I wanted to leave as little as possible up to chance or the efforts of other people. This meant I spent my evenings cutting up and organizing disease/symptom flashcards, after hours spent researching online and translating into Thai. I also made two educational posters, information packets for the hospital staff, photocopied worksheets and activity descriptions, and went personally to buy every material. I prepared everything I could and hoped with such a strong structure the seminar would go smoothly.
The day off, I was something of a nervous wreck. I enlisted Dan and Kelsi (my closest volunteer pals) to come help and keep me calm. Of course, their bus to Phitsanulok was stopped by the police and searched for drugs, delaying their arrival. Of course, the hospital staff showed up a half an hour late. Still, everything went remarkably well, if not exactly according to plan. Pii Som acted as MC and introduced the hospital staff before beginning the opening activity. We had each student write a question or statement related to smoking and then the teachers selected students to read out loud. Many of the students were facetious in their comments, which elicited laughter, but the questions were incredibly helpful in letting us know what the students knew already, and were curious about. Next, the hospital staff gave a presentation, using much of the information I gave them. After the presentation (which lasted about 30 minutes), the rotations began. Dan and Kelsi arrived just as they were starting. I grabbed their bags from their backs like a madwomen and shoved them into their rotations, promising to bring them food and water as soon as I could. I ran around from room to room answering questions, helping the hospital staff, and supplying missing materials. The first rotation was a bit shaky, but things quickly hit their stride and by the third rotation I was able to step back and act as photographer.
When the day was over, I felt ready to collapse and an overpowering sense of relief, as well as of accomplishment. The kids responded to each rotation and were smiling all the way through. The hospital staff did a wonderful job and the teachers were pleased with the outcome. I, for my part, squirreled away a pack of cookies we bought for the “gross mouth” activity and happily returned to my house with Dan and Kelsi after everything was clean to relax with a few beers (behind drawn curtains of course) and finally have the project off my mind. I used all my newfound free time to read The Idiot by Dostoyovevsky, buy food at the market, write a letter or two, and look forward to the Peace Corps Sizzler Thanskgiving Extravaganza.
Back in June, the teachers and I made a list of the problems facing our school. Through conversations and questionnaires, it became clear that one of the biggest issues is juvenile delinquency. Most of the students come from poor, farming families, and either have parents who are very young or absent. As I may have mentioned before, it is common for people in their twenties to leave the village in search of work, regardless of whether or not they have children. Many students thus live with their grandparents, who are for the most part too old to be diligent caretakers. There is not a ready supply of role models or guiding hands, and the kids have a fair degree of freedom. Furthermore, many students believe that they are going to become rice farmers anyway, so school is not important. All these factors lead to behavioral issues. I have 11 year old students who ask me for smoke breaks and get drunk on weekends. Yaa baa, or methamphetamine, is on the rise, which leads to fights and theft. Many girls do not continue their education past 9th grade due to pregnancy.
Part of the problem is ignorance. There is no anti-drug or sex education in Thai schools. For boys, smoking and drinking are promoted as signs of masculinity, and often fathers will have no qualms if their teenage son downs whiskey or smokes a cig every now and then. That smoking is addictive, and exponentially more so if begun at a young age, is unknown. When the teachers lecture their 7th graders about not smoking, they say it is because smoking is smelly and impolite for girls. Cancer and other side effects are not brought into the equation. These kids have no-one giving them substantive, factual information. American students had sex ed and D.A.R.E. Granted, many American teenagers begin smoking and sleeping around at shockingly young ages, but at least they are aware of the consequences of their actions, and will not find themselves surprised at pregnancy or emphysema in their 40s because they simply did not know. Health education is a powerful thing, empowering students to make their own informed decisions, and in my opinion desperately needed in Thai schools.
I decided to work on developing a sex ed/D.A.R.E. like program for the middle schoolers, where a few times a year, the school would hold an educational seminar on a relevant topic, to spread accurate information, raise awareness, and open up discussions. My list if topics ranged from personal hygiene to rape prevention to HIV/AIDS. I decided to make the pilot project “anti-smoking”, because it was relevant, uncontroversial, and I know Pii Som cared about it. I began pushing for the campaign at the end of the first term, hoping that if I sowed the seeds well enough we could kick off term two incorporating health into the curriculum. I mentioned it every day, and usually received lukewarm responses in return. But as soon as I returned to site after my vacation, Pii Som asked me to pick a date. We selected November 19th, and cross-checked the date with the school’s director and the hospital staff.
At first, I felt a sense of disbelief at first that I was actually able to do a project which my school supported. It seemed too good to be true; none of the usual obstacles stood in my way. I heard horror stories during training of volunteers whose counterparts did not support their projects, and thus disabled them from executing any successfully. Pii Som was willing, or at least obliged me, in translating multiple documents and helped me write the formal project proposal/budget to give the school’s director. Additionally, many volunteers have problems finding funding. I specifically designed the project so money would not be an obstacle, and the school had sufficient money in the budget. The whole thing cost under $100.
Another dreaded Peace Corps legend is of the volunteer who spent 6 months planning a project to have it canceled the day before, or have no-one show up. Lucky for me, the staff at the local hospital seemed excited about the project and motivated to help. I wanted to include the hospital staff as a way to expand the project community wide, as well as imbue it with credibility. The teachers are constantly lecturing the students about one thing or another, which the students generally ignore. However, if health “professionals” are explaining to the students the health consequences of smoking, the kids are more likely to believe it and listen. My main challenge with the hospital staff was their lack of knowledge on the topic- they were not well-versed in smoking-related diseases and health effects. I remedied this by creating an informational packet with a description of each topic and activity; a list of 15 smoking-related facts, including smoking in general, smoking in Thailand, and youth smoking; and an outline of the various health-related consequences, from lung cancer to addiction to gum decay. The fact that cigarettes are addictive was a surprise to many. It felt bizarre that me, a 23 year-old with no background in health was teaching hospital staff about the symptoms of emphysema, but there is so little access to health education in the villages that many people genuinely do not know basic things, like washing hands staves off disease, eating massive amounts of deep fried white rice is not good nutrition, and smoking can kill you.
The project
I structured the seminar around 4 rotations: long-term health consequences, short-term health effects, temptation and refusal skills (saying no) and spreading information. There were 160 students total, and thus 40 kids per rotation. I designed each rotation myself, but the people from the hospital would lead them. The first rotation focused on lung cancer, oral cancer, emphysema, and cardiovascular disease. I created a poster and flashcards with the name of the diseases, their symptoms, and [gruesome] pictures. After reviewing the poster, the kids were divided into groups. Each group received an envelope with the flashcards and pictures all jumbled up. The task was to reassemble the diseases, symptoms, and images. It put the kids face to face with what smoking can do to the body, and made th`em consider each illness individually.
The second rotation focused on short-term health effects, primarily lung damage, shortness of breath, addiction, and tooth and gum decay. I had a range of activities planned. My favorite was a “gross mouth” contest, where the students could use a smorgasbord of gummies, dried fruit, raisins, chocolates, and cookies to make their mouths look as if they were rotting. There was also a demonstration of smoking’s effect on the lungs, where a cigarette was stuck through a hole in an empty water bottle filled with cotton balls. By squeezing the bottle, the air flow simulates inhaling and exhaling, and the cotton balls turn brown. The students also breathed through straws and coffee stirrers to simulate shortness of breath. In the “Saying No” rotation, the students played a game where they refused toffees (it is difficult to explain) and then talked about peer pressure. Finally, small groups students had to make informational posters with what they learned and why they shouldn’t smoke. This was meant as a way for the students to process the information, as well as create something tangible to look at after the seminar was over and use to teach the younger students.
Pii Som and I went to multiple meetings at the hospital to brief the hospital staff and I spent hours and hours working on posters and the rotation activities at school and at home. I felt a huge sense of responsibility, because this project was my idea, I cared deeply that the students learn from it, and I wanted it to be the first of many. If it was a disaster, that could be the end to my grand vision of a health curriculum. I wanted to leave as little as possible up to chance or the efforts of other people. This meant I spent my evenings cutting up and organizing disease/symptom flashcards, after hours spent researching online and translating into Thai. I also made two educational posters, information packets for the hospital staff, photocopied worksheets and activity descriptions, and went personally to buy every material. I prepared everything I could and hoped with such a strong structure the seminar would go smoothly.
The day off, I was something of a nervous wreck. I enlisted Dan and Kelsi (my closest volunteer pals) to come help and keep me calm. Of course, their bus to Phitsanulok was stopped by the police and searched for drugs, delaying their arrival. Of course, the hospital staff showed up a half an hour late. Still, everything went remarkably well, if not exactly according to plan. Pii Som acted as MC and introduced the hospital staff before beginning the opening activity. We had each student write a question or statement related to smoking and then the teachers selected students to read out loud. Many of the students were facetious in their comments, which elicited laughter, but the questions were incredibly helpful in letting us know what the students knew already, and were curious about. Next, the hospital staff gave a presentation, using much of the information I gave them. After the presentation (which lasted about 30 minutes), the rotations began. Dan and Kelsi arrived just as they were starting. I grabbed their bags from their backs like a madwomen and shoved them into their rotations, promising to bring them food and water as soon as I could. I ran around from room to room answering questions, helping the hospital staff, and supplying missing materials. The first rotation was a bit shaky, but things quickly hit their stride and by the third rotation I was able to step back and act as photographer.
When the day was over, I felt ready to collapse and an overpowering sense of relief, as well as of accomplishment. The kids responded to each rotation and were smiling all the way through. The hospital staff did a wonderful job and the teachers were pleased with the outcome. I, for my part, squirreled away a pack of cookies we bought for the “gross mouth” activity and happily returned to my house with Dan and Kelsi after everything was clean to relax with a few beers (behind drawn curtains of course) and finally have the project off my mind. I used all my newfound free time to read The Idiot by Dostoyovevsky, buy food at the market, write a letter or two, and look forward to the Peace Corps Sizzler Thanskgiving Extravaganza.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
BRE 23: School’s Closed
Mom at Site
As I waited at the main bus station in Phitsanulok for my mom to arrive, I could not sit still. I paced around the terminal munching compulsively on banana chips until my jaw hurt. When she suddenly appeared, it was like a mirage, her familiar face oddly juxtaposed against the ugly background of a little-known Thai city among rice fields. We hurried to catch the van back to site, as it was the last day of school and we needed to get there before all the teachers left. Everyone shrieked with excitement when they saw her and repeatedly exclaimed how beautiful my mother is, how she looks like my sister, and how our faces are the same. I think mom was overwhelmed, having barely slept, flown half way across the world, and within 12 hours of arriving, finding herself at a village school with 10 Thai women chattering loudly at her. Still, she was an excellent sport about everything, from ants infiltrating her suitcase, to biking in the heat, to squat toilets without toilet paper.
Where we would eat dinner was an issue for weeks before her arrival. Thais are obsessed with food and family. Additionally, this is a culture which puts great value on hospitality. Thus my mother’s visit meant that there were borderline battles over who would have the privilege of feeding us. In an effort to please everybody, we basically spent the entire weekend eating. Her first night at site, Mr Jon took a group of people to eat mugata (similar to Korean barbeque) for a birthday dinner. Mom was slightly weirded out by the bowl of raw assorted meats bowl placed in front of her, but graciously tried everything (except the cow internal organs). The next night, we ate with Jon, Film, Orasa, and a few others again, but this time at Jon’s house. I suggested a few dishes that were traditional and non-spicy for mom to try, like sweet and sour green curry, and stir fried vegetables. Both evenings were wonderful, with me translating back and forth between Thai and English and making all the people present laugh at my exuberance, as well as unceasing chatter. Granted I am an extremely fast talker and prone to being…verbose, under any circumstances, but Jon and Film (and the others) had never really seen me speaking English with an English speaker, and I think it showed them a different side of me, a side not restrained by a language barrier. I also kept accidentally saying things to my mom in Thai, which cracked them up.
Saturday morning, we biked to the daily market to buy food for making merit at the wat. We sauntered through the numerous stalls, buying anything that struck our fancy (anything we thought Buddha would enjoy). One of the local wats was having a fundraising events, with traditional Thai dance, which we peeked in at briefly, but made merit at a quieter, forested wat, where the head monk was kind enough to give us a grand tour, opening all the buildings in the wat complex and letting us ramble through. We spent the rest of the time on bikes, riding through rice fields and exploring various villages, as well as making som tum- traditional spicy papaya salad- with my neighbors.
We arrived in Chiang Mai on Sunday October 11 around dinner time. After checking in at the hotel, went straight to the legendary Sunday night walking market. Block after block is sectioned off in the middle of the city and packed with people, wandering among thousands of products from hand-made hill tribe purses to Thai silk scarves to $1 bracelets. I had a long list of things I wanted to buy, and all my pent-up shopping energy explored onto the night. I bought everything in sight, including linen pants, a school shirt, a purse, silver bangles, sunglasses, and woven bracelets, all together totaling under $30. We ate dinner by hopping food stalls, buying pad thai at one, dumplings at another, deep fried bananas at a third. When we had finally exhausted ourselves, I put her in a tuk tuk back to the hotel and met up with a few other volunteers at our favorite rasta bar to celebrate my birthday at midnight.
The next morning, I had a late start, having returned at 4 am. I luxuriated in the soft clean bed, dawdled in the hot shower, and ate 4-5 different types of breakfast pastry before I was ready to head out. We spent the day doing a “wat crawl” of Chiang Mai, hitting the most important temples and thereby walking from one end of the city to the other. That night, we took a long and nauseating song taio ride up to Wat Doi Suthep, where you can watch the sunset over the city from the top of a mountain, while the chants of monks and scent of incense mingle in the air behind you. Tuesday morning, we got Thai massages with hot herbal compresses and then ate traditional northern Thai curry noodles, and left for Vietnam that afternoon.
Vietnam and Cambodia
Our first stop in Vietnam was Hanoi. We arrived at night and stared out the dark windows of the cab at the foreign landscape. It felt odd to be a foreigner in an Asian country where I did not know the language. Thailand I understood, but Vietnam I did not. Our hotel was in the old quarter, and our cab meandered through narrow and decrepit streets with people and motorcycles brushing the sides of the car until pulling up to an alley and pointing to a sign for our hotel. The hotel was lovely, but like everything in Vietnam, tall and narrow in pagoda style. We dropped off our bags and went off in search of spring rolls before bed. The next day was rainy, but as it was our only day in Hanoi, we persevered and walked across town to the Temple of Literature, a Confucian influenced pagoda complex known for its beautiful gardens and education themed iconography. Vietnam is a primarily Buddhist country, but they practice a different strain of Buddhism (Mahayana) than Thailand (Therveda). Additionally, Vietnam is strongly influenced by Chinese culture, and Taoism and Confucianism are present everywhere. Vietnamese spirituality is really a blend of these three faiths, I was surprised at how evocative of China all the architecture was.
After the temple, was hit up Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, which was unfortunately closed to re-embalm Ho’s body, and then to the Museum of Ethnography, which has exhibits on the dozens of ethnic tribes Vietnam’s northern mountains host. We ended our day with a walking tour of the motorcycle, wandering through markets, almost being killed by motorcycles multiple times, and buying pastries at a French bakery. Since Vietnam was formerly a French colony, loafs of French-style bread are sold on the streets by old women in conical hats, and there are actually bakeries. That night, we saw a traditional Vietnamese folk puppet show and had wine at a French restaurant.
Hanoi is a 3 and a half hour drive from Halong Bay, a UNESCO heritage site. The bay is a large body of water with natural limestone cliffs standing eerie and tall throughout. In order to fully experience the bay, it is necessary to do an overnight on a “junk” or small wooden boat. Our boat was quite small, with only 5 cabins and 9 people aboard-me and mom, an American family of 3, a pair of Australian sisters, and a British couple from Liverpool. We had a leisurely lunch aboard as the boat set off into the depths of the bay. In the afternoon, we explored some caves, kayaked, and swam, and then had a few hours for relaxation and drinks before a decadent 7 course Vietnamese dinner. The next morning, our group visited a floating village in the bay.
From Hanoi we went down the coast to Hue, a seat of the Nguyen empire and home to the opulent tombs of the emperors, as well as an old citadel. The tombs were outside of Hue proper, and we hired a van to drive us from place to place. These were sprawling complexes, with ornate decoration and mystical gardens. I could feel the ghosts of concubines and eunuchs float past me in their silk robes, living in the tombs long after their emperor was deceased, devoting their life to the memory of the glorious dead.
We continued on in our journey to Hoi An, a quaint fishing town vaguely reminiscent of Venice. We took a map from the hotel and gave ourselves a self-guided tour of Hoi An, peeking down faded yellow alleyways and into Chinese assembly halls. Hoi An was a center for trade with China, and thus there is a palpable Chinese influence. The assembly halls were covered in bright lacquer molding, mythical sculpture, and shrines. Giant incense cones hung from the ceiling in one hall, while another had a fountain made out of leaping mosaic fish. In addition to its charm, Hoi An is known for its custom shoe-making. I had a pair of leather gladiator sandals made to fit my feet for $12. Even more exciting (to me anyway) was Hoi An’s renown as a culinary center. Mom and I wandered the streets until we found a cute restaurant with a balcony overlooking the main walking street. We ordered all of the local specialties on the menu, exclaiming how we could never eat all of it, but then, of course, left only crumbs. There were “white rose” dumplings with shrimp; light and crispy pancakes where you add in your own bean sprouts, pork, and delectable dipping sauce; and fish fried in banana leaves. Vietnamese food is considerably lighter and healthier than Thai food, a fact which both of us appreciated.
After Hoi An, we moved further South to Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh city. Upon arrival, we realized it was a relatively generic-looking, metropolitan city, and decided to spend the next day on a trip to the Mekong Delta instead. The trip was a jam-packed day, including multiple boat rides, visits to a rice paper making shop and a coconut candy co-op, as well as a fruit sampling, musical show, horse-cart ride, and a canoe cruise. Having accomplished all of the above in a week’s time, we felt ready to leave Vietnam for Cambodia.
Our travels in Cambodia centered around Angkor Wat and Angkor Tom, but we had a bit of time in Phnom Penh to visit the Royal Palace and National Museum, as well as a spa. Phnom Penh is a small city and I’ll be honest when I say the highlight were the praline peanut pancakes available for breakfast at our hotel. Angkor Wat and Angkor Tom however, were awe-inspiring. We hired a guide and spent the day visiting the “highlights”, as there are hundreds and hundreds of temples in this old capital of the Khmer empire. To attempt and describe the experience, I fear, would reap trite and inadequate results. The structures are incredible for both their monumentality and their exquisite detail, photographs cannot do them justice, and they made me feel almost sad, because I felt there was a something powerful, universal, and elemental in their beauty that I could not fully comprehend. My favorite temple was Ta Phrom, made famous by Tomb Raider: Laura Croft and known for its carnivorous trees that appear to be devouring the temple whole. I love the idea of nature taking revenge.
Finally after all these travels and adventures, after seeing so much in so short a time, we flew back into Thailand. I felt like I had come back home, to a place where I spoke the language and knew how to navigate. We spent two days in Bangkok before Mom woke up at 4 am to fly back to America, and I said goodbye to her, as well as genuine comfort, and headed alone back to site.
As I waited at the main bus station in Phitsanulok for my mom to arrive, I could not sit still. I paced around the terminal munching compulsively on banana chips until my jaw hurt. When she suddenly appeared, it was like a mirage, her familiar face oddly juxtaposed against the ugly background of a little-known Thai city among rice fields. We hurried to catch the van back to site, as it was the last day of school and we needed to get there before all the teachers left. Everyone shrieked with excitement when they saw her and repeatedly exclaimed how beautiful my mother is, how she looks like my sister, and how our faces are the same. I think mom was overwhelmed, having barely slept, flown half way across the world, and within 12 hours of arriving, finding herself at a village school with 10 Thai women chattering loudly at her. Still, she was an excellent sport about everything, from ants infiltrating her suitcase, to biking in the heat, to squat toilets without toilet paper.
Where we would eat dinner was an issue for weeks before her arrival. Thais are obsessed with food and family. Additionally, this is a culture which puts great value on hospitality. Thus my mother’s visit meant that there were borderline battles over who would have the privilege of feeding us. In an effort to please everybody, we basically spent the entire weekend eating. Her first night at site, Mr Jon took a group of people to eat mugata (similar to Korean barbeque) for a birthday dinner. Mom was slightly weirded out by the bowl of raw assorted meats bowl placed in front of her, but graciously tried everything (except the cow internal organs). The next night, we ate with Jon, Film, Orasa, and a few others again, but this time at Jon’s house. I suggested a few dishes that were traditional and non-spicy for mom to try, like sweet and sour green curry, and stir fried vegetables. Both evenings were wonderful, with me translating back and forth between Thai and English and making all the people present laugh at my exuberance, as well as unceasing chatter. Granted I am an extremely fast talker and prone to being…verbose, under any circumstances, but Jon and Film (and the others) had never really seen me speaking English with an English speaker, and I think it showed them a different side of me, a side not restrained by a language barrier. I also kept accidentally saying things to my mom in Thai, which cracked them up.
Saturday morning, we biked to the daily market to buy food for making merit at the wat. We sauntered through the numerous stalls, buying anything that struck our fancy (anything we thought Buddha would enjoy). One of the local wats was having a fundraising events, with traditional Thai dance, which we peeked in at briefly, but made merit at a quieter, forested wat, where the head monk was kind enough to give us a grand tour, opening all the buildings in the wat complex and letting us ramble through. We spent the rest of the time on bikes, riding through rice fields and exploring various villages, as well as making som tum- traditional spicy papaya salad- with my neighbors.
We arrived in Chiang Mai on Sunday October 11 around dinner time. After checking in at the hotel, went straight to the legendary Sunday night walking market. Block after block is sectioned off in the middle of the city and packed with people, wandering among thousands of products from hand-made hill tribe purses to Thai silk scarves to $1 bracelets. I had a long list of things I wanted to buy, and all my pent-up shopping energy explored onto the night. I bought everything in sight, including linen pants, a school shirt, a purse, silver bangles, sunglasses, and woven bracelets, all together totaling under $30. We ate dinner by hopping food stalls, buying pad thai at one, dumplings at another, deep fried bananas at a third. When we had finally exhausted ourselves, I put her in a tuk tuk back to the hotel and met up with a few other volunteers at our favorite rasta bar to celebrate my birthday at midnight.
The next morning, I had a late start, having returned at 4 am. I luxuriated in the soft clean bed, dawdled in the hot shower, and ate 4-5 different types of breakfast pastry before I was ready to head out. We spent the day doing a “wat crawl” of Chiang Mai, hitting the most important temples and thereby walking from one end of the city to the other. That night, we took a long and nauseating song taio ride up to Wat Doi Suthep, where you can watch the sunset over the city from the top of a mountain, while the chants of monks and scent of incense mingle in the air behind you. Tuesday morning, we got Thai massages with hot herbal compresses and then ate traditional northern Thai curry noodles, and left for Vietnam that afternoon.
Vietnam and Cambodia
Our first stop in Vietnam was Hanoi. We arrived at night and stared out the dark windows of the cab at the foreign landscape. It felt odd to be a foreigner in an Asian country where I did not know the language. Thailand I understood, but Vietnam I did not. Our hotel was in the old quarter, and our cab meandered through narrow and decrepit streets with people and motorcycles brushing the sides of the car until pulling up to an alley and pointing to a sign for our hotel. The hotel was lovely, but like everything in Vietnam, tall and narrow in pagoda style. We dropped off our bags and went off in search of spring rolls before bed. The next day was rainy, but as it was our only day in Hanoi, we persevered and walked across town to the Temple of Literature, a Confucian influenced pagoda complex known for its beautiful gardens and education themed iconography. Vietnam is a primarily Buddhist country, but they practice a different strain of Buddhism (Mahayana) than Thailand (Therveda). Additionally, Vietnam is strongly influenced by Chinese culture, and Taoism and Confucianism are present everywhere. Vietnamese spirituality is really a blend of these three faiths, I was surprised at how evocative of China all the architecture was.
After the temple, was hit up Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, which was unfortunately closed to re-embalm Ho’s body, and then to the Museum of Ethnography, which has exhibits on the dozens of ethnic tribes Vietnam’s northern mountains host. We ended our day with a walking tour of the motorcycle, wandering through markets, almost being killed by motorcycles multiple times, and buying pastries at a French bakery. Since Vietnam was formerly a French colony, loafs of French-style bread are sold on the streets by old women in conical hats, and there are actually bakeries. That night, we saw a traditional Vietnamese folk puppet show and had wine at a French restaurant.
Hanoi is a 3 and a half hour drive from Halong Bay, a UNESCO heritage site. The bay is a large body of water with natural limestone cliffs standing eerie and tall throughout. In order to fully experience the bay, it is necessary to do an overnight on a “junk” or small wooden boat. Our boat was quite small, with only 5 cabins and 9 people aboard-me and mom, an American family of 3, a pair of Australian sisters, and a British couple from Liverpool. We had a leisurely lunch aboard as the boat set off into the depths of the bay. In the afternoon, we explored some caves, kayaked, and swam, and then had a few hours for relaxation and drinks before a decadent 7 course Vietnamese dinner. The next morning, our group visited a floating village in the bay.
From Hanoi we went down the coast to Hue, a seat of the Nguyen empire and home to the opulent tombs of the emperors, as well as an old citadel. The tombs were outside of Hue proper, and we hired a van to drive us from place to place. These were sprawling complexes, with ornate decoration and mystical gardens. I could feel the ghosts of concubines and eunuchs float past me in their silk robes, living in the tombs long after their emperor was deceased, devoting their life to the memory of the glorious dead.
We continued on in our journey to Hoi An, a quaint fishing town vaguely reminiscent of Venice. We took a map from the hotel and gave ourselves a self-guided tour of Hoi An, peeking down faded yellow alleyways and into Chinese assembly halls. Hoi An was a center for trade with China, and thus there is a palpable Chinese influence. The assembly halls were covered in bright lacquer molding, mythical sculpture, and shrines. Giant incense cones hung from the ceiling in one hall, while another had a fountain made out of leaping mosaic fish. In addition to its charm, Hoi An is known for its custom shoe-making. I had a pair of leather gladiator sandals made to fit my feet for $12. Even more exciting (to me anyway) was Hoi An’s renown as a culinary center. Mom and I wandered the streets until we found a cute restaurant with a balcony overlooking the main walking street. We ordered all of the local specialties on the menu, exclaiming how we could never eat all of it, but then, of course, left only crumbs. There were “white rose” dumplings with shrimp; light and crispy pancakes where you add in your own bean sprouts, pork, and delectable dipping sauce; and fish fried in banana leaves. Vietnamese food is considerably lighter and healthier than Thai food, a fact which both of us appreciated.
After Hoi An, we moved further South to Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh city. Upon arrival, we realized it was a relatively generic-looking, metropolitan city, and decided to spend the next day on a trip to the Mekong Delta instead. The trip was a jam-packed day, including multiple boat rides, visits to a rice paper making shop and a coconut candy co-op, as well as a fruit sampling, musical show, horse-cart ride, and a canoe cruise. Having accomplished all of the above in a week’s time, we felt ready to leave Vietnam for Cambodia.
Our travels in Cambodia centered around Angkor Wat and Angkor Tom, but we had a bit of time in Phnom Penh to visit the Royal Palace and National Museum, as well as a spa. Phnom Penh is a small city and I’ll be honest when I say the highlight were the praline peanut pancakes available for breakfast at our hotel. Angkor Wat and Angkor Tom however, were awe-inspiring. We hired a guide and spent the day visiting the “highlights”, as there are hundreds and hundreds of temples in this old capital of the Khmer empire. To attempt and describe the experience, I fear, would reap trite and inadequate results. The structures are incredible for both their monumentality and their exquisite detail, photographs cannot do them justice, and they made me feel almost sad, because I felt there was a something powerful, universal, and elemental in their beauty that I could not fully comprehend. My favorite temple was Ta Phrom, made famous by Tomb Raider: Laura Croft and known for its carnivorous trees that appear to be devouring the temple whole. I love the idea of nature taking revenge.
Finally after all these travels and adventures, after seeing so much in so short a time, we flew back into Thailand. I felt like I had come back home, to a place where I spoke the language and knew how to navigate. We spent two days in Bangkok before Mom woke up at 4 am to fly back to America, and I said goodbye to her, as well as genuine comfort, and headed alone back to site.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Post 22: Samachik
Last Saturday, a teacher and friend named Dtoi took me to her wat for samachik. I was unsure of what this meant exactly, but gathered that it had something to do with breathing and meditation. Dtoi told me to wear a white shirt and picked me up at 6:30 pm, just as the sun was setting in the rain-saturated sky. We drove a few kilometers down the highway and pulled onto a narrow road, winding through a grove of trees that bordered on a rice field. Through the dusk and the trees, I could see people dressed similarly in all white moving through the faint darkness like ghosts. They were following a monk, whose wise limbs were as gnarled as an old oak tree, and Dtoi and I hurried to catch up. The wat contained multiple buildings, each with a separate purpose, and on our walk to the meditation room, we passed a monumental brick structure that in the night seemed to tower over us, reminding me of an ancient, haunted mausoleum. Dtoi said I would be able to see it more clearly the next morning when we returned to the wat to “make merit”, and I wondered if in the light of day it would seem less ominous.
We ultimately stopped in front of an all-white temple, which is unusual in Thai Buddhist architecture, took off our shoes, and descended stairs into the basement. The entire room was made of white tiles and barren of furniture, except for a shrine at the front and woven mats on the floor. We each selected a cushion and a place on the mats. In the front of the room, closest to the shrine, there was a larger mat and cushions for the monks. After the monks entered the room and paid their initial respects to Buddha, they began chanting. The scent of flowers and incense wafted through the room, mingling with the guttural murmur of the Pali chants, and I tried to focus on the smells and the sounds, rather than dwelling on my physical discomfort (my legs had fallen painfully asleep). The chanting continued for half an hour. All of a sudden, it came to an abrupt halt, the lights were shut off, and the room was immersed in complete darkness. Through the silence, Dtoi whispered to me that we would remain like this for one hour.
Unexpectedly enveloped in a world without sound or light, my first task was to stretch my legs. Once comfortable, a disorienting consciousness of existing in a void began to sink in. I was filled with a blissful sense of freedom. I could think or do anything and nobody would ever know. Even though there were other people sitting inches away from me, I felt like I was alone. There on my cushion, on the third mat, in the basement of one building in a temple of many, in Wat Bot district, Phitsanulok province, Thailand, I felt an acute, existential isolation at the same time as a profound connection to the rest of humanity. It was like the consuming darkness stripped away all the superfluities of existence, and all that remained was something basic, simple, and universal. It was being anchored in the world and lost in it at the same time; communing with who I am while simultaneously acknowledging my insignificance. With darkness removing me of my body and silence removing me of expression, I felt like a freed soul floating in a nonmaterial world, and I began to consider who I am beyond physicality and social interaction.
In many ways, this meditation experience was the appropriate culmination to my first six months at site. I am the only foreigner here. No matter how well I speak Thai or how involved I am in my community, I will always exist as an outsider and be unable to fully communicate because of the language barrier. Sometimes it seems like I am secluded voiceless, and lost, just as I was in that room. True there are moments where I feel alienated and alone, but there are just as many moments where I feel closely bonded to the people around me, despite the gaping gulfs of language and experience. Sitting samachik helped me realize that this is a big part of what Peace Corps is about- transcending cultural differences and finding a common humanity.
It is also about self-discovery. Never in my life have I had so much time and space to think. It is inevitable that being surrounded by friends and family will influence our actions, no matter how independent we are. Living my daily life without American friends and family has helped me see myself more clearly. The Bekah left to her own devices is not the same as the Bekah existing in a world filled with fun things to do. I am a very social person, and without a steady stream of activities to occupy my time, other things have had to take their place. These past six months have been a period of incredible creative productivity. I’ve been writing poetry like mad, which I never used to do, and forming my own aesthetic style. The walls of my house are littered with various art projects, ranging from paintings to collages to amalgamations of the two. I am also healthier, tidier, and more thoughtful than I ever was before. These traits were always in me, but now they have room to breathe.
It has become clear to me that I cannot stand boredom. I am naturally restless and love to be busy. I have to be in the thick of things and cannot stand to let any opportunity for adventure pass me by. As a result, I have trouble slowing down and saying no. If given the choice of staying home or going out, I will always pick going out, regardless of whether or not I should. I do not like to turn down any chances because I fear I will miss something if I do. However now, with my dearth of options, I fill my time with yoga, reading, art, exercise, and writing. Additionally, without a million personal concerns running through it, my mind turns to other people. I have learned that in some ways, I missed just as much by going out as I would have staying in. “Life experiences” are not just about gallivanting around with friends (although that is a big part of it), but also about personal expression and self-awareness. I have learned that quiet and calm are not things to be abhorred. Now, in no way am I becoming an introvert. I still love being out and social. After staying at site for awhile, I go slightly crazy. I need to see my friends and blow off steam, of which I still know no better way than dancing until the sun comes up. But I now see the value in balance and moderation as well, and the importance of knowing when to say no. As with all my thoughts lately, it all comes back to harmony.
I know I have changed. I know I have grown. Parts of Peace Corps have been incredibly hard for me and I have had moments where I felt broken down. Other times, I feel on top of the world and like I could handle even more of a challenge. With a quarter of my service and one school term behind me, I feel ready for what comes next. This first term was about getting oriented, adjusting, forming relationships, establishing a life from scratch, and sowing seeds. I am looking forward to next term when all that I have learned and planted can begin to come to fruition. But in the mean time, I am so excited to see my mom. She arrives on Friday (October 9th) just in time for both of our birthdays. We will spend a few days at my site, before heading off to Chiang Mai, Vietnam and Cambodia. I am excited for vacation, I am excited to travel, I am excited to turn 23, I am excited for a clean bed and hot water, I am excited to speak English for two weeks, and I am excited to see how my mom perceives all these changes which have felt so radical for me, but are maybe not so dramatic to an outsider. Maybe I have not changed so much as acknowledged elements of my personality that were always there. I don’t know, but we shall see. Until next time…
We ultimately stopped in front of an all-white temple, which is unusual in Thai Buddhist architecture, took off our shoes, and descended stairs into the basement. The entire room was made of white tiles and barren of furniture, except for a shrine at the front and woven mats on the floor. We each selected a cushion and a place on the mats. In the front of the room, closest to the shrine, there was a larger mat and cushions for the monks. After the monks entered the room and paid their initial respects to Buddha, they began chanting. The scent of flowers and incense wafted through the room, mingling with the guttural murmur of the Pali chants, and I tried to focus on the smells and the sounds, rather than dwelling on my physical discomfort (my legs had fallen painfully asleep). The chanting continued for half an hour. All of a sudden, it came to an abrupt halt, the lights were shut off, and the room was immersed in complete darkness. Through the silence, Dtoi whispered to me that we would remain like this for one hour.
Unexpectedly enveloped in a world without sound or light, my first task was to stretch my legs. Once comfortable, a disorienting consciousness of existing in a void began to sink in. I was filled with a blissful sense of freedom. I could think or do anything and nobody would ever know. Even though there were other people sitting inches away from me, I felt like I was alone. There on my cushion, on the third mat, in the basement of one building in a temple of many, in Wat Bot district, Phitsanulok province, Thailand, I felt an acute, existential isolation at the same time as a profound connection to the rest of humanity. It was like the consuming darkness stripped away all the superfluities of existence, and all that remained was something basic, simple, and universal. It was being anchored in the world and lost in it at the same time; communing with who I am while simultaneously acknowledging my insignificance. With darkness removing me of my body and silence removing me of expression, I felt like a freed soul floating in a nonmaterial world, and I began to consider who I am beyond physicality and social interaction.
In many ways, this meditation experience was the appropriate culmination to my first six months at site. I am the only foreigner here. No matter how well I speak Thai or how involved I am in my community, I will always exist as an outsider and be unable to fully communicate because of the language barrier. Sometimes it seems like I am secluded voiceless, and lost, just as I was in that room. True there are moments where I feel alienated and alone, but there are just as many moments where I feel closely bonded to the people around me, despite the gaping gulfs of language and experience. Sitting samachik helped me realize that this is a big part of what Peace Corps is about- transcending cultural differences and finding a common humanity.
It is also about self-discovery. Never in my life have I had so much time and space to think. It is inevitable that being surrounded by friends and family will influence our actions, no matter how independent we are. Living my daily life without American friends and family has helped me see myself more clearly. The Bekah left to her own devices is not the same as the Bekah existing in a world filled with fun things to do. I am a very social person, and without a steady stream of activities to occupy my time, other things have had to take their place. These past six months have been a period of incredible creative productivity. I’ve been writing poetry like mad, which I never used to do, and forming my own aesthetic style. The walls of my house are littered with various art projects, ranging from paintings to collages to amalgamations of the two. I am also healthier, tidier, and more thoughtful than I ever was before. These traits were always in me, but now they have room to breathe.
It has become clear to me that I cannot stand boredom. I am naturally restless and love to be busy. I have to be in the thick of things and cannot stand to let any opportunity for adventure pass me by. As a result, I have trouble slowing down and saying no. If given the choice of staying home or going out, I will always pick going out, regardless of whether or not I should. I do not like to turn down any chances because I fear I will miss something if I do. However now, with my dearth of options, I fill my time with yoga, reading, art, exercise, and writing. Additionally, without a million personal concerns running through it, my mind turns to other people. I have learned that in some ways, I missed just as much by going out as I would have staying in. “Life experiences” are not just about gallivanting around with friends (although that is a big part of it), but also about personal expression and self-awareness. I have learned that quiet and calm are not things to be abhorred. Now, in no way am I becoming an introvert. I still love being out and social. After staying at site for awhile, I go slightly crazy. I need to see my friends and blow off steam, of which I still know no better way than dancing until the sun comes up. But I now see the value in balance and moderation as well, and the importance of knowing when to say no. As with all my thoughts lately, it all comes back to harmony.
I know I have changed. I know I have grown. Parts of Peace Corps have been incredibly hard for me and I have had moments where I felt broken down. Other times, I feel on top of the world and like I could handle even more of a challenge. With a quarter of my service and one school term behind me, I feel ready for what comes next. This first term was about getting oriented, adjusting, forming relationships, establishing a life from scratch, and sowing seeds. I am looking forward to next term when all that I have learned and planted can begin to come to fruition. But in the mean time, I am so excited to see my mom. She arrives on Friday (October 9th) just in time for both of our birthdays. We will spend a few days at my site, before heading off to Chiang Mai, Vietnam and Cambodia. I am excited for vacation, I am excited to travel, I am excited to turn 23, I am excited for a clean bed and hot water, I am excited to speak English for two weeks, and I am excited to see how my mom perceives all these changes which have felt so radical for me, but are maybe not so dramatic to an outsider. Maybe I have not changed so much as acknowledged elements of my personality that were always there. I don’t know, but we shall see. Until next time…
BRE 21: End of the Semester
BRE 21: End of the Semester
My first semester of teaching is drawing to a close. I tested my first and second graders by buying animal crackers and making them identify each animal in English before they could eat them. I am pleased to say they passed. Teaching is a trade, a craft, a profession that like a fine wine, cheese, or anyone of the other things I am deprived of (I don’t miss them at all, really), improves with age, up until a certain point. But there is a point when it goes bad. Perhaps I should ditch the tantalizing metaphor. Teaching is hard. The week of practice teaching I received during training was not adequate to prepare me for life as a full-time teacher. I knew nothing of curriculum building, lesson planning, classroom management, or student assessment before I set foot on Thai soil. Granted I have many other areas of expertise (interpreting abstract paintings, to name one), but surprisingly that has helped me very little in the classroom. Semester one was a crash course in teaching. There were definitely highs. My little ones know their alphabet cold, and watching them prance around the room with one hand on their head yelling “U- Unicorn” never fails to make me smile. I watched my six graders become more extroverted, motivated about learning, and curious about the world around them before my very eyes. There were a few slight mistakes. I accidentally taught that people from Norway are Nordish, gave Thai English teachers the wrong definition for “auxiliary verb”, and my first graders thinks vegetables are animals, but I figure there is plenty of time to remedy all errors. At this point, I feel vastly more anchored and confident in my abilities as an educator, and am far more comfortable in the classroom. I learned how to strike an appropriate balance between lesson planning and improvisation, and how to conduct a two hour class that does not leave me drained of all life force by the end.
English teaching aside, my geography class and art club were well-received, and enabled me to educate students and teachers alike where Africa is and that South America is a continent. With the help of my co-teachers, I started projects I believe will be meaningful at both schools. We successfully made hand soap from scratch at one, and I got approval to begin an anti-smoking campaign at my other one, as well as interest from the hospital in expanding the project community wide. I also feel as firmly established in my community as I could be at this point. At a retirement party earlier this week, I knew just as many people as my co-teacher, including the members of the band. I finally broke down and agreed to sing karaoke at a school-closing dinner, which resulted in me and Pii Som performing Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” as a duet. I read the entirety of War and Peace and brought s’mores to Thailand. I celebrated a friend’s birthday by having a beatnik-inspired weekend where we assumed false identities and unwittingly ended up at a House of Ill-Repute at 5:30 in the morning, ultimately watching the sunrise from our hotel roof. I lost over 10 pounds and survived on 2000 baht ($60) for a whole month-including a trip to expensive Bangkok- after having my wallet stolen. I lived alone for the first time and filled two journals with thoughts, inspirations, and dreams.
But all is not milk and honey. Thai is a collectivist culture, and this means that Thai people have no problem walking uninvited into my kitchen, looking through my refrigerator without permission, and lecturing me on not eating enough rice. Whenever I leave my house, they ask where I am going, and whenever I go to a store, strangers ask me what I am buying. To them this is normal, but to me it can feel intrusive and nosy. I get stared at constantly and told regularly I would be much better looking if I had longer hair and my face was not so red…5 minutes after a bike ride in 100 degree heat. Another element of Thai culture is that criticizing ones appearance publicly is acceptable and common. It is not seen as insulting to call someone fat to their face. To Thai people, it is an obvious fact, so why keep it silent? This means when I get a pimple, it is pointed at and inquired after all day long. When I got my arm rash, I had people of all shapes and sizes grabbing my arm, examining it closely, and telling me it was unattractive. This cultural foible was sharply manifested when teaching about adjectives. We taught physical description words, and Pii Som selected students to demonstrate each word. For vocabulary like tall and short, this was no problem. For the words “fat”, “weak” and “ugly”, I found her selection of volunteers somewhat awkward, but I was the only one. The students pointed out as fat and ugly stood up just like the ones picked for being beautiful and thin.
While physical things can be openly discussed, feelings are not. Thai people rarely get upset and when they do, you cannot tell. Their faces do not express emotion, unlike my very evocative, American face. When I am annoyed or upset, I have to hold it in with all my might, so as not to offend or alienate anyone. The usual response when someone dies roughly translates to “no worries”. Making a scene or acknowledging a problem is inappropriate here. My cultural understanding on this front was put to the test recently. It is ordinary in Thai schools for teachers to hit the students. Corporal punishment is an accepted and common form of discipline. Pii Som and I teach two large classes of rowdy 7th graders, who are very difficult to control. Due to my lack of experience, I am beyond my abilities in this particular area. I tried basic methods like staring the kids down or waiting silently until they stop talking, but these tricks only go so far. Som’s reaction was usually to pinch the ears of the misbehaving students. This does not hurt them, and served more to embarrass, but it still it made me uncomfortable and was clearly ineffective. I talked to Pii Som about it, and asked her not to physically assault the students. She told me it was the “law in Thailand” that teachers have to hit the students. Uh-huh. I said it was important to me and she agreed to try not to. The next week, I returned from printing out a worksheet to find her whacking half of our class on their backsides with a bamboo stick. I felt tears and anger welling up inside me. It was incredibly upsetting for me to see, as well as a betrayal of her promise. After the initial shock, I calmly set the worksheets on the desk and walked out of the classroom. I sat outside at a table under a tree for the rest of the day, writing and practicing my Thai reading skills. After school, I told Som as sweetly as I could that if she did that again, I would not teach with her. Since then, we have had no problems.
When I first arrived at site, I was so concerned with being culturally appropriate and living up to my high status as a teacher in the community that I was borderline up-tight. This is partly due to our training, where our “cross-cultural” teacher freaked us all out about Thai cultural norms and I went into site terrified that if I let my knees show, wore a silver bracelet, or displayed irritation, I would alienate people and be perceived as loose, rich, or mean. By now, I have learned for myself what is ok and what is not. I am more comfortable being me. I’ve started wearing my sunglasses and my peace necklace around my village. I can make jokes, albeit lame ones, in Thai. When I get frustrated, I express it nicely, rather than keeping it in. I know it is ok for me to wear shorts that show my knees on weekends, but not ok to leave a collar button open when I am at school. I thought in the beginning that my young, American self and my site-self had to be kept separate, and the first, hidden. Since I am more comfortable now, and since people are more comfortable with me, the two selves are integrating more than they were before.
My first semester of teaching is drawing to a close. I tested my first and second graders by buying animal crackers and making them identify each animal in English before they could eat them. I am pleased to say they passed. Teaching is a trade, a craft, a profession that like a fine wine, cheese, or anyone of the other things I am deprived of (I don’t miss them at all, really), improves with age, up until a certain point. But there is a point when it goes bad. Perhaps I should ditch the tantalizing metaphor. Teaching is hard. The week of practice teaching I received during training was not adequate to prepare me for life as a full-time teacher. I knew nothing of curriculum building, lesson planning, classroom management, or student assessment before I set foot on Thai soil. Granted I have many other areas of expertise (interpreting abstract paintings, to name one), but surprisingly that has helped me very little in the classroom. Semester one was a crash course in teaching. There were definitely highs. My little ones know their alphabet cold, and watching them prance around the room with one hand on their head yelling “U- Unicorn” never fails to make me smile. I watched my six graders become more extroverted, motivated about learning, and curious about the world around them before my very eyes. There were a few slight mistakes. I accidentally taught that people from Norway are Nordish, gave Thai English teachers the wrong definition for “auxiliary verb”, and my first graders thinks vegetables are animals, but I figure there is plenty of time to remedy all errors. At this point, I feel vastly more anchored and confident in my abilities as an educator, and am far more comfortable in the classroom. I learned how to strike an appropriate balance between lesson planning and improvisation, and how to conduct a two hour class that does not leave me drained of all life force by the end.
English teaching aside, my geography class and art club were well-received, and enabled me to educate students and teachers alike where Africa is and that South America is a continent. With the help of my co-teachers, I started projects I believe will be meaningful at both schools. We successfully made hand soap from scratch at one, and I got approval to begin an anti-smoking campaign at my other one, as well as interest from the hospital in expanding the project community wide. I also feel as firmly established in my community as I could be at this point. At a retirement party earlier this week, I knew just as many people as my co-teacher, including the members of the band. I finally broke down and agreed to sing karaoke at a school-closing dinner, which resulted in me and Pii Som performing Celine Dion’s “My Heart Will Go On” as a duet. I read the entirety of War and Peace and brought s’mores to Thailand. I celebrated a friend’s birthday by having a beatnik-inspired weekend where we assumed false identities and unwittingly ended up at a House of Ill-Repute at 5:30 in the morning, ultimately watching the sunrise from our hotel roof. I lost over 10 pounds and survived on 2000 baht ($60) for a whole month-including a trip to expensive Bangkok- after having my wallet stolen. I lived alone for the first time and filled two journals with thoughts, inspirations, and dreams.
But all is not milk and honey. Thai is a collectivist culture, and this means that Thai people have no problem walking uninvited into my kitchen, looking through my refrigerator without permission, and lecturing me on not eating enough rice. Whenever I leave my house, they ask where I am going, and whenever I go to a store, strangers ask me what I am buying. To them this is normal, but to me it can feel intrusive and nosy. I get stared at constantly and told regularly I would be much better looking if I had longer hair and my face was not so red…5 minutes after a bike ride in 100 degree heat. Another element of Thai culture is that criticizing ones appearance publicly is acceptable and common. It is not seen as insulting to call someone fat to their face. To Thai people, it is an obvious fact, so why keep it silent? This means when I get a pimple, it is pointed at and inquired after all day long. When I got my arm rash, I had people of all shapes and sizes grabbing my arm, examining it closely, and telling me it was unattractive. This cultural foible was sharply manifested when teaching about adjectives. We taught physical description words, and Pii Som selected students to demonstrate each word. For vocabulary like tall and short, this was no problem. For the words “fat”, “weak” and “ugly”, I found her selection of volunteers somewhat awkward, but I was the only one. The students pointed out as fat and ugly stood up just like the ones picked for being beautiful and thin.
While physical things can be openly discussed, feelings are not. Thai people rarely get upset and when they do, you cannot tell. Their faces do not express emotion, unlike my very evocative, American face. When I am annoyed or upset, I have to hold it in with all my might, so as not to offend or alienate anyone. The usual response when someone dies roughly translates to “no worries”. Making a scene or acknowledging a problem is inappropriate here. My cultural understanding on this front was put to the test recently. It is ordinary in Thai schools for teachers to hit the students. Corporal punishment is an accepted and common form of discipline. Pii Som and I teach two large classes of rowdy 7th graders, who are very difficult to control. Due to my lack of experience, I am beyond my abilities in this particular area. I tried basic methods like staring the kids down or waiting silently until they stop talking, but these tricks only go so far. Som’s reaction was usually to pinch the ears of the misbehaving students. This does not hurt them, and served more to embarrass, but it still it made me uncomfortable and was clearly ineffective. I talked to Pii Som about it, and asked her not to physically assault the students. She told me it was the “law in Thailand” that teachers have to hit the students. Uh-huh. I said it was important to me and she agreed to try not to. The next week, I returned from printing out a worksheet to find her whacking half of our class on their backsides with a bamboo stick. I felt tears and anger welling up inside me. It was incredibly upsetting for me to see, as well as a betrayal of her promise. After the initial shock, I calmly set the worksheets on the desk and walked out of the classroom. I sat outside at a table under a tree for the rest of the day, writing and practicing my Thai reading skills. After school, I told Som as sweetly as I could that if she did that again, I would not teach with her. Since then, we have had no problems.
When I first arrived at site, I was so concerned with being culturally appropriate and living up to my high status as a teacher in the community that I was borderline up-tight. This is partly due to our training, where our “cross-cultural” teacher freaked us all out about Thai cultural norms and I went into site terrified that if I let my knees show, wore a silver bracelet, or displayed irritation, I would alienate people and be perceived as loose, rich, or mean. By now, I have learned for myself what is ok and what is not. I am more comfortable being me. I’ve started wearing my sunglasses and my peace necklace around my village. I can make jokes, albeit lame ones, in Thai. When I get frustrated, I express it nicely, rather than keeping it in. I know it is ok for me to wear shorts that show my knees on weekends, but not ok to leave a collar button open when I am at school. I thought in the beginning that my young, American self and my site-self had to be kept separate, and the first, hidden. Since I am more comfortable now, and since people are more comfortable with me, the two selves are integrating more than they were before.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
If Dickens was Thai: 1
Throughout my 18 blog entries, I have introduced quite the cast of Thai characters. These, for the most part, have been passing mentions, and the writer in me cannot help but feel that this is incomplete. To try and understand my life at site, a further characterization of this eclectic bunch is necessary. They are the people who make my life here what it is, who help me exist happily, and who I will hopefully give something back to in return. That, and I’m not sure I could dream up better characters. I am going to write my “characterizations” in installments, and will intersperse them with my regular blog entires.
My counterparts:
Ning - Ning is my 4 foot 7 inch pink-loving, hard-working, glitter-headband-sporting, feisty, baby-obsessed, educational supervisor. Ning and her husband Dten recently got promoted from teachers to supervisors and moved permanently to Wat Bot, where they live in a beautiful house along the river with their son Dtiu, Ning’s younger sister, Dten’s father, and dog named Pie. I lived with them before I moved into my own house, and within half an hour of my arrival, Ning whipped out her wedding album. She lost no time regaling me with the entire saga of their courtship, and inquired seriously what age I want to get married and how many babies I want to have- needless to say I was horrified. Despite her adoration for all things marriage-and-baby related, Ning is a dedicated career woman. She is always working when I see her, which is…unusual in Thailand. Ning’s driven, ambitious attitude stands in delightful juxtaposition to her collection full of pastel, shimmery Thai silk suits and collection of sparkly headbands, which she wears immaculately every single day. Dten does not work nearly as hard as Ning, but can always be found about 10 steps behind her with her light pink camera, snapping pictures or bringing her papers.
Ning and Dten have just one chubby seven year old son named Dtiu, who they indulge constantly, which is partially which he is so rotund. Twenty minutes before dinner if he asks for fried chicken, sticky rice, and sweets, he gets it. Fortunately he is still at an age where fat is cute. Every time you ask Ning or Dten how Dtiu is, they say “oh, very fat”, and smile. Dtiu can be shy, but has no problem running around the house naked and farting loudly, whether or not I am present. Apparently he is only shy around “beautiful girls”, and I did not make the cut. I try not to let it bother me, and told him I will wait until we can get married one day.
Som - Som is my co-teacher at my big school. She has a degree in English and heads the district’s English network. Despite this, her English is not very strong. She has a good vocabulary but no sense of sentence structure. Consequently, we often have language standoffs, where she is convinced that she is speaking properly and I have no idea what she is talking about. She repeats the same ambiguous jumble of words over and over and I try to guess the meaning. For example:
Som: “You eat very much, fat like me”
Bekah (in an upset voice): “You think I’m fat?”
Turns out she meant that if I eat a lot, I will be fat like her. I made a mental note to teach her the conditional tense.
However with her position as the head of the network, Som pretends her English is much better than it is. She loves to show off her “English skills” for other Thai people. During lunch or at meetings, she will translate basic things for me she knows I get, just to display her abilities, and will nod knowledgably and say yes to anything she does not understand (What is for lunch today? Yes. How long does it take to go to Korat? Yes. Why do most Thai men have mistresses? Yes. ) The most flagrant example of this happened during our presentation at a teacher training. I spoke English and she translated into Thai, but when she did not understand me, she would just make things up. With my Thai skills, I noticed every mistranslation, but wasn’t about to call her out in front of 150 of her colleagues.
Som is one of the only moody Thai people I have ever met. She is always nice to me, but I have seen her get into arguments with other Thais -something you never see in this intensely non-confrontational culture. She has melancholy days, where she sighs heavily on a regular basis and locks us in her classroom to eat lunch alone. Often Som’s bad moods are triggered by her on-going feud with the school principal or her husband, who takes business trips to visit his various mistresses. Conversely, when she is in a good mood, Som is the life of the party. Last week, she walked around the wat (temple) holding her boobs and teasing the other teachers that hers’ are bigger. She also initiated a conversation at lunch one day about how many times a year the teachers sleep with their husbands and has asked me to help her make a match.com profile so she can “make foreign friends”. Another one of her strong suits is making up weird “teaching” songs on the spot.
The woman can also eat like no-one I have ever seen. She always complains about how she is fat and wants to be skinny, but then takes me out to eat massive amounts of deep-fried fish, som tum, and canome (Thai sweets). She always orders food enough for five people, and finishes all of it. It blows my mind every time, particularly when an hour or two later she asks if I want to go eat dinner with her, because if you don’t eat rice, it’s just a “snack”. Furthermore, Som has somewhat off-kilter notions of nutrition. We will be eating the deep-fried fish, which has a few pieces of shredded carrot and cabbage on top, Som will tell me the dish is healthy because it contains fresh vegetables. She will only drink glasses of water with one ice cube in it, because very cold water makes you fat, and according to her I lost weight because mango season ended, not because I started going on 40 km bike rides. In her classroom, she has a poster that says “motto” and reads: Rich -> Eat, Eat ->Fat, Fat -> Danger.
I enjoy spending time with Som outside of the classroom, but teaching with her can be stressful. She is impatient with the students and does not seem to enjoy teaching anymore. She will bang a bamboo stick really hard and loudly against the board or the desks when she wants attention, which freaks me out, and told me it is the rule in Thailand that teachers hit students. I told her in America it is absolutely not ok for teachers to hit students and asked her not to do it anymore, or at least not when I am in the classroom. Thus far she has acquiesced. Som regularly invites me to sleepover at her house, and I think I will use the no-hitting thing as leverage for the slumber party she clearly wants to have.
Orasa - Orasa is my co-teacher at Thangam, the small school. She teaches first grade and adores children. She has never been married and has no kids of her own, but is the full-time caretaker of her nine year old nephew who lives with her (and me). She grew up in the same village as the school and literally knows everybody. Orasa was the one who helped introduce me into the community and get me settled. At Thangam, she is in charge of the school’s finances, and spends a great deal of time helping out the other teachers. It is clear the school would not function without her-the principal wanders into our classroom with questions multiple times a day. She is an incredibly caring, thoughtful woman who figures like a sweet, loving aunt in my world here. When I was sick, she brought me food everyday and knows when to step in if I am having an off-day. I feel comfortable going to her if I am upset or need help. She helps me with so many small things, like making copies, getting my haircut, or chasing down the motorized ice cream stand in heels and a skirt.
Orasa speaks very little English, and does not seem overly eager to learn. She dedicates many hours when I am at Thangam to helping me improve my Thai reading. We will often spend a couple hours a day going through the first grade Thai book, eating fruit or locally-made treats, and chatting. She loves to laugh and when she came to PST II, made so many friends that when I asked her to get dinner with me, she couldn’t because she already had plans. She can be very shy, however, around authority figures, and when the country director came to visit my site, she hid in my kitchen. I want to get her to the point where she is comfortable with hugs, because every time I see her, I just want to give her a hug, but alas, that is definitely not normal behavior here.
My counterparts:
Ning - Ning is my 4 foot 7 inch pink-loving, hard-working, glitter-headband-sporting, feisty, baby-obsessed, educational supervisor. Ning and her husband Dten recently got promoted from teachers to supervisors and moved permanently to Wat Bot, where they live in a beautiful house along the river with their son Dtiu, Ning’s younger sister, Dten’s father, and dog named Pie. I lived with them before I moved into my own house, and within half an hour of my arrival, Ning whipped out her wedding album. She lost no time regaling me with the entire saga of their courtship, and inquired seriously what age I want to get married and how many babies I want to have- needless to say I was horrified. Despite her adoration for all things marriage-and-baby related, Ning is a dedicated career woman. She is always working when I see her, which is…unusual in Thailand. Ning’s driven, ambitious attitude stands in delightful juxtaposition to her collection full of pastel, shimmery Thai silk suits and collection of sparkly headbands, which she wears immaculately every single day. Dten does not work nearly as hard as Ning, but can always be found about 10 steps behind her with her light pink camera, snapping pictures or bringing her papers.
Ning and Dten have just one chubby seven year old son named Dtiu, who they indulge constantly, which is partially which he is so rotund. Twenty minutes before dinner if he asks for fried chicken, sticky rice, and sweets, he gets it. Fortunately he is still at an age where fat is cute. Every time you ask Ning or Dten how Dtiu is, they say “oh, very fat”, and smile. Dtiu can be shy, but has no problem running around the house naked and farting loudly, whether or not I am present. Apparently he is only shy around “beautiful girls”, and I did not make the cut. I try not to let it bother me, and told him I will wait until we can get married one day.
Som - Som is my co-teacher at my big school. She has a degree in English and heads the district’s English network. Despite this, her English is not very strong. She has a good vocabulary but no sense of sentence structure. Consequently, we often have language standoffs, where she is convinced that she is speaking properly and I have no idea what she is talking about. She repeats the same ambiguous jumble of words over and over and I try to guess the meaning. For example:
Som: “You eat very much, fat like me”
Bekah (in an upset voice): “You think I’m fat?”
Turns out she meant that if I eat a lot, I will be fat like her. I made a mental note to teach her the conditional tense.
However with her position as the head of the network, Som pretends her English is much better than it is. She loves to show off her “English skills” for other Thai people. During lunch or at meetings, she will translate basic things for me she knows I get, just to display her abilities, and will nod knowledgably and say yes to anything she does not understand (What is for lunch today? Yes. How long does it take to go to Korat? Yes. Why do most Thai men have mistresses? Yes. ) The most flagrant example of this happened during our presentation at a teacher training. I spoke English and she translated into Thai, but when she did not understand me, she would just make things up. With my Thai skills, I noticed every mistranslation, but wasn’t about to call her out in front of 150 of her colleagues.
Som is one of the only moody Thai people I have ever met. She is always nice to me, but I have seen her get into arguments with other Thais -something you never see in this intensely non-confrontational culture. She has melancholy days, where she sighs heavily on a regular basis and locks us in her classroom to eat lunch alone. Often Som’s bad moods are triggered by her on-going feud with the school principal or her husband, who takes business trips to visit his various mistresses. Conversely, when she is in a good mood, Som is the life of the party. Last week, she walked around the wat (temple) holding her boobs and teasing the other teachers that hers’ are bigger. She also initiated a conversation at lunch one day about how many times a year the teachers sleep with their husbands and has asked me to help her make a match.com profile so she can “make foreign friends”. Another one of her strong suits is making up weird “teaching” songs on the spot.
The woman can also eat like no-one I have ever seen. She always complains about how she is fat and wants to be skinny, but then takes me out to eat massive amounts of deep-fried fish, som tum, and canome (Thai sweets). She always orders food enough for five people, and finishes all of it. It blows my mind every time, particularly when an hour or two later she asks if I want to go eat dinner with her, because if you don’t eat rice, it’s just a “snack”. Furthermore, Som has somewhat off-kilter notions of nutrition. We will be eating the deep-fried fish, which has a few pieces of shredded carrot and cabbage on top, Som will tell me the dish is healthy because it contains fresh vegetables. She will only drink glasses of water with one ice cube in it, because very cold water makes you fat, and according to her I lost weight because mango season ended, not because I started going on 40 km bike rides. In her classroom, she has a poster that says “motto” and reads: Rich -> Eat, Eat ->Fat, Fat -> Danger.
I enjoy spending time with Som outside of the classroom, but teaching with her can be stressful. She is impatient with the students and does not seem to enjoy teaching anymore. She will bang a bamboo stick really hard and loudly against the board or the desks when she wants attention, which freaks me out, and told me it is the rule in Thailand that teachers hit students. I told her in America it is absolutely not ok for teachers to hit students and asked her not to do it anymore, or at least not when I am in the classroom. Thus far she has acquiesced. Som regularly invites me to sleepover at her house, and I think I will use the no-hitting thing as leverage for the slumber party she clearly wants to have.
Orasa - Orasa is my co-teacher at Thangam, the small school. She teaches first grade and adores children. She has never been married and has no kids of her own, but is the full-time caretaker of her nine year old nephew who lives with her (and me). She grew up in the same village as the school and literally knows everybody. Orasa was the one who helped introduce me into the community and get me settled. At Thangam, she is in charge of the school’s finances, and spends a great deal of time helping out the other teachers. It is clear the school would not function without her-the principal wanders into our classroom with questions multiple times a day. She is an incredibly caring, thoughtful woman who figures like a sweet, loving aunt in my world here. When I was sick, she brought me food everyday and knows when to step in if I am having an off-day. I feel comfortable going to her if I am upset or need help. She helps me with so many small things, like making copies, getting my haircut, or chasing down the motorized ice cream stand in heels and a skirt.
Orasa speaks very little English, and does not seem overly eager to learn. She dedicates many hours when I am at Thangam to helping me improve my Thai reading. We will often spend a couple hours a day going through the first grade Thai book, eating fruit or locally-made treats, and chatting. She loves to laugh and when she came to PST II, made so many friends that when I asked her to get dinner with me, she couldn’t because she already had plans. She can be very shy, however, around authority figures, and when the country director came to visit my site, she hid in my kitchen. I want to get her to the point where she is comfortable with hugs, because every time I see her, I just want to give her a hug, but alas, that is definitely not normal behavior here.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
BRE 20: It means no worries…
It’s been a while friends, and for that I apologize. Part of the reason I have not written recently is that things have assumed a routine, whatever seemed noteworthy before now passes without a second notice and it feels as if there is nothing new to report. That is not to say that life is dull, because it is not, but simply that it now feels like my life rather than “the experience of a lifetime” or a two year escape from it. Despite the settled dust, there are things that occur every day to remind me I am not in Kansas anymore. Firstly, the sounds I wake up to. The loudest sounds come from the ancient farming trucks. I live on the last road before miles and miles of rice fields. Thus the trucks that carry equipment and rice farmers back and forth are constantly passing my house. Often 15 to 20 people will pile in the back, yelling things over the din as they prepare for the day. The second loudest sounds come from the animals. A motley assortment of roosters, chickens, dogs, birds, and cats are constantly roaming around the village, making noise, and irritating each other (as well as me). The next noise that weaves its way into my burgeoning consciousness is the pounding of a mortar and pestle. Most Thai dishes begin with mashing a few main ingredients together with a mortar and pestle. Most Thais eat a full meal in the morning, and thus the sounds of the women next door cooking waft into my bedroom window during the early hours. This sound has a soothing regularity to it, although it still does not motivate me to eat spicy curry and salted fish for breakfast.
Right now it is rainy season, although it has not been raining often. It usually rains at night, which can shut off the power and the water supply, but also cools the air which makes sleeping more comfortable. It is an unpredictable coquettish rain, that falls on impulse when you least expect it. The sky could be ominously black and not a drop drips from the clouds, or it can pour out of a clear sky. It is mischievous rain that never rains when you want it to, and always knows when you need to do your laundry. On the topic of laundry, it is allegedly this very activity that caused the rash which has been living on my arms for 10 days now. I wash my clothes in a bucket with my hands, and my arms usually end up covered in soapy water. Last week a mysterious collection of dots and splotches that did not itch or hurt, but was unsightly, began climbing my arms and was not going away. The Peace Corps doctor said it was a probably a reaction to the chemicals in the laundry detergent powder and will be better in another week, but I would like it to go away, as some people look at me like a leper. Still I prefer an innocuous rash to the ant bites I received after wrapping my towel around me, where they had unfortunately set up camp. Ah, and did I mention on the train to Bangkok I had my purse slit by a thief, and my phone, money, and credit cards were stolen?
These may all seem like negative things, and they are. Sometimes I think the smallest things will tip me over the edge. But for the most part, I have acquired quite the hakuna matata perspective on it all, or at least I am beginning to. Things are out of my control, the good outweighs the bad, none of these annoyances are a big deal, and the key is to take deep breaths and let it all go. I have acclimated to the sounds and enjoy watching the animals puttering around my yard; I use the misbehaved rain as an opportunity to do art projects or yoga in my house; the rash will ultimately go away and I view as an “earning my spots” type thing- plus it is not nearly as bad as the bacterial skin infection on my chin from a few months ago. As for the purse, there was not too much money in it, I wanted to switch banks anyway, and thankfully my passport and camera were stashed elsewhere. These silver linings do not come from unfailing optimism or perfect inner peace, but rather from the realization that getting worked up over things, particularly in this country, has little to no effect, and it is better to let things flow as they will, rather than trying to fight them.
Furthermore, as I mentioned above, no situation is going to be perfect. For us Peace Corps volunteers, I think sometimes we revel in the misfortune, in the pains, in the aggravations, because it is not supposed to be easy, nor do we want it to be. But to dwell on these is a mistake, to forget the joys is ignorant. When I get so frustrated at the students I want to scream, or feel completely drained after a day of school, I remember my neighbor who works 20+ hour shifts on her feet in a wire factory, and feel sheepish, but also a greater conviction in what I am doing. She desperately wants her daughter to be better at English so she can have a better life, and many of my students are like that. I can also laugh at the silly things, like when I accidentally taught my kids that people from Norway are Nordish, or when they tried to say soccer and all I could hear was 30 little voices saying “suck it”. When I first got to site, I disliked that I lived close to an ugly little town. I wanted the pastoral small Thai village and resented the town’s presence, for violating my ideals and expectations. Now I appreciate it for the daily market, the bike and paper shops, the convenient stores, and most of all, the smoothie stands. Additionally, the town is just a small part of my site. The 10 villages around it are beautiful, with vibrant flowers and lush foliage bursting everywhere, homes clustered in tightly-knit communities, and a river that flows towards the mountains. My friend Liz from Cornell who visited for a day on her way to Chiang Mai said it was like a butterfly garden. I had barely even noticed the butterflies before.
Even writing it now, my petite pearls of wisdom seem trite. I’ve read these same things many times before and none of my thoughts are original or surprising. I suppose what I am driving at is how more than ever, I am feeling the harmony that exists in the universe, the ying and the yang, the churning, inevitable, inexplicable flow of life swirling around us that is not necessarily good or bad, but just is. It is not about optimism or pessimism, but about balance and perceiving things as they are. And for the first time in my life, these ideas I’ve had and heard before, I truly believe and am experiencing in what feels like a deep and visceral way. Now that these notions are being put into practice, and I am beginning to understand them beyond the words that express them.
Hakuna Matata
Right now it is rainy season, although it has not been raining often. It usually rains at night, which can shut off the power and the water supply, but also cools the air which makes sleeping more comfortable. It is an unpredictable coquettish rain, that falls on impulse when you least expect it. The sky could be ominously black and not a drop drips from the clouds, or it can pour out of a clear sky. It is mischievous rain that never rains when you want it to, and always knows when you need to do your laundry. On the topic of laundry, it is allegedly this very activity that caused the rash which has been living on my arms for 10 days now. I wash my clothes in a bucket with my hands, and my arms usually end up covered in soapy water. Last week a mysterious collection of dots and splotches that did not itch or hurt, but was unsightly, began climbing my arms and was not going away. The Peace Corps doctor said it was a probably a reaction to the chemicals in the laundry detergent powder and will be better in another week, but I would like it to go away, as some people look at me like a leper. Still I prefer an innocuous rash to the ant bites I received after wrapping my towel around me, where they had unfortunately set up camp. Ah, and did I mention on the train to Bangkok I had my purse slit by a thief, and my phone, money, and credit cards were stolen?
These may all seem like negative things, and they are. Sometimes I think the smallest things will tip me over the edge. But for the most part, I have acquired quite the hakuna matata perspective on it all, or at least I am beginning to. Things are out of my control, the good outweighs the bad, none of these annoyances are a big deal, and the key is to take deep breaths and let it all go. I have acclimated to the sounds and enjoy watching the animals puttering around my yard; I use the misbehaved rain as an opportunity to do art projects or yoga in my house; the rash will ultimately go away and I view as an “earning my spots” type thing- plus it is not nearly as bad as the bacterial skin infection on my chin from a few months ago. As for the purse, there was not too much money in it, I wanted to switch banks anyway, and thankfully my passport and camera were stashed elsewhere. These silver linings do not come from unfailing optimism or perfect inner peace, but rather from the realization that getting worked up over things, particularly in this country, has little to no effect, and it is better to let things flow as they will, rather than trying to fight them.
Furthermore, as I mentioned above, no situation is going to be perfect. For us Peace Corps volunteers, I think sometimes we revel in the misfortune, in the pains, in the aggravations, because it is not supposed to be easy, nor do we want it to be. But to dwell on these is a mistake, to forget the joys is ignorant. When I get so frustrated at the students I want to scream, or feel completely drained after a day of school, I remember my neighbor who works 20+ hour shifts on her feet in a wire factory, and feel sheepish, but also a greater conviction in what I am doing. She desperately wants her daughter to be better at English so she can have a better life, and many of my students are like that. I can also laugh at the silly things, like when I accidentally taught my kids that people from Norway are Nordish, or when they tried to say soccer and all I could hear was 30 little voices saying “suck it”. When I first got to site, I disliked that I lived close to an ugly little town. I wanted the pastoral small Thai village and resented the town’s presence, for violating my ideals and expectations. Now I appreciate it for the daily market, the bike and paper shops, the convenient stores, and most of all, the smoothie stands. Additionally, the town is just a small part of my site. The 10 villages around it are beautiful, with vibrant flowers and lush foliage bursting everywhere, homes clustered in tightly-knit communities, and a river that flows towards the mountains. My friend Liz from Cornell who visited for a day on her way to Chiang Mai said it was like a butterfly garden. I had barely even noticed the butterflies before.
Even writing it now, my petite pearls of wisdom seem trite. I’ve read these same things many times before and none of my thoughts are original or surprising. I suppose what I am driving at is how more than ever, I am feeling the harmony that exists in the universe, the ying and the yang, the churning, inevitable, inexplicable flow of life swirling around us that is not necessarily good or bad, but just is. It is not about optimism or pessimism, but about balance and perceiving things as they are. And for the first time in my life, these ideas I’ve had and heard before, I truly believe and am experiencing in what feels like a deep and visceral way. Now that these notions are being put into practice, and I am beginning to understand them beyond the words that express them.
Hakuna Matata
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Post 19: Ebb and Flow
The quiet routine of my village life has not yet resumed since my training in Korat, which I finished a month ago. My first week back at school, the students and teachers were bouncing with excitement at my return. This made me feel good and like I was doing something right. I took the fact that my presence was missed a sign that I have truly become part of the community. However it was slightly demoralizing (and guilt inducing) that everyone I saw reminded me I had been gone for a long time. Still, it felt wonderful to be back and re-assume my life with its simple pleasures. I spent the next few days teaching, catching up with people, and putting my life back in order. In honor of my return, both Mr. John and my supervisor invited me over to eat mugata that weekend. Mugata is a version of Korean Barbeque, where you grill pieces of meat over hot coals and then eat it with boiled vegetables, noodles, and sauce. It is kind of like a special occasion meal.
Saturday night I headed to John and Film’s house, toting the s’more materials my dad sent me in the mail. After we ate our fill of mugata, I whipped out jumbo puff marshmallows, Hershey’s, and graham crackers, and we used the still hot coals to toast the marshmallows. Film went nuts over s’mores and ate at least three. Mr. John is not a fan of chocolate, but did dip his graham cracker in a bit of marshmallow goo, and before long all three of our faces were sticky with s’more residue. It was one of the best experiences I have had at site. I knew for sure s’mores were a hit when the next evening, while I was in the midst of a shower, Film and two friends showed up on my porch hunting for marshmallows.
Sunday, I ran out of ways to occupy myself. My whole village was quiet, as everyone went to the fields to harvest rice (I think). Glowing with the success of my s’more exchange and possessing half a bunch of old bananas, I decided to make banana nut bread in my rice cooker. I made a little project out of it, by purchasing each ingredient from different stores around town. Eggs from my neighbors, sugar and salt from a dried food store in town, milk from the market (the flour I had already bought in Phitsanulok, as you don’t find flour outside of cities). I was doubtful whether the banana bread would turn out well, as I didn’t follow a recipe so much as improvise, but a few hours later, I had baked a huge, beautiful, delicious-smelling, banana bread. I immediately put it on a plate and set off to find people to feed. I tried all my neighbors, many of whom are elderly. The old couple across the street said it would hurt their stomach, so took teeny bites, but their teacher daughter and her husband, who owns the store next door, both ate bigger pieces. I gave a chunk to my toothless yard caretaker, but she immediately put it in the dog’s bowl. I swung my Mr. John and Film’s house to give them a piece, and that night, brought a chunk to my supervisor’s house, where I was eating mugata again that night. All that was left I then brought to school the next day. It was a big hit with the teachers, and everyone seemed very impressed I could cook it all by myself, which I’ll be honest, I was too.
The following week was a short one, as on Wednesday I left site to go to Loei province. My friend Katelyn was holding an English/ life skills camp for 200 high school students and five volunteers went to help her out. Loei is just over the mountains from Phitsanulok, and Katelyn’s community is on the very Northern part, bordering the Mekong River and Laos. Her site is beautiful, in the mountains, and quite remote. Katelyen recently adopted a puppy named Mervin, so in the evenings when camp as over, we all hung out, played with her puppy, and played Apples to Apples. The actual camp was three days long, and supposed to be themed around the “body”. The sessions ended up being a hodge podge of HIV/AIDS awareness, yoga, nutrition, sound words, emotional health, directions, and for some reason, the Macarena. The students were teenagers all the way up to 18, and it was a fairly difficult age group to work with- the younger kids do not try to sneak off for cigarettes or mutter curse words in Thai under their breath. Despite the lack of cohesion and the fact that half of the volunteers were sick, the camp came off quite well. They did not learn much English, but I believe we imparted more valuable gifts, like health education and an opportunity for them to express themselves creatively as individuals. Saturday evening, we hopped on the two and a half hour song taio (like a pick-up truck with benches in the back) we headed into the small city of Loei for a night out, where we drank “essence of lion” and went to a club called Robot 2029-the club of the future.
We all slept on mats on the floor at Katelyn’s house, so it was inevitable illness would spread. Julia came into the camp sick, and by the end of the three days, both the boys (Victor and Dan) were sick too. It was just a matter of time before her germs spread to me. I felt fine through Sunday and Monday, but Tuesday morning, it hit me. I went to school, but halfway through my class I knew I needed to go home. The teachers were all extremely worried and gave me three bags of noodle soup to take home. My illness lasted for a full week. Some days I woke up feeling better than others, and went to school on time every morning. Still, without fail, by 10 or 11 o’clock am, I would start to fade and head home to bed. The first two days, I had a fever and a headache, which then transitioned into a cold and sinus pain. I felt weak and had absolutely no appetite, so I did not eat much, which perpetuated feeling weak. I spent a lot of time in bed, napping, reading, and watching episodes of 24 that Katelyn lent me. While this may sound relaxing, I started to go stir crazy. I usually felt ok at night, and as a result did an array of art projects. Oddly enough, it was a very productive time creatively. But far and away, the most difficult part was the emotional toll being sick had on me. I rarely get sick and hate being bored, as a result I do not handle being sick very well.
It is hard being sick, all alone, in a foreign country. I felt profoundly homesick and lonely for the first time since being here. Even the times when physically I was doing fine, I felt anxious, restless and disassociated. With so much time to myself, to think, read, and write, I went slightly nuts. It was almost like I had been keeping myself so busy with teaching, life at site, and personal projects, that when I was finally forced to slow down and let the flying dust in my brain settle, all these thoughts and large questions crept into my mind. It probably did not help that I am reading War and Peace, a novel that deals with existential questions and the meaning of life, but for a couple days I felt incredibly confused and consumed by…I’m not sure what exactly. I was freaking out a little.
Ultimately, the crazy passed with the actual illness, and I am back to normal. All the opportunity for reflection helped me realize important things about myself, and forced me to seriously consider my life here, my motivation for doing this, and what I want to get out of it, rather than just letting the experience carry me. It was a painful week, but I think I came out of it with a clearer vision of who I am and why I am here. My house also looks nicer now, with all the art projects adorning the walls.
Saturday night I headed to John and Film’s house, toting the s’more materials my dad sent me in the mail. After we ate our fill of mugata, I whipped out jumbo puff marshmallows, Hershey’s, and graham crackers, and we used the still hot coals to toast the marshmallows. Film went nuts over s’mores and ate at least three. Mr. John is not a fan of chocolate, but did dip his graham cracker in a bit of marshmallow goo, and before long all three of our faces were sticky with s’more residue. It was one of the best experiences I have had at site. I knew for sure s’mores were a hit when the next evening, while I was in the midst of a shower, Film and two friends showed up on my porch hunting for marshmallows.
Sunday, I ran out of ways to occupy myself. My whole village was quiet, as everyone went to the fields to harvest rice (I think). Glowing with the success of my s’more exchange and possessing half a bunch of old bananas, I decided to make banana nut bread in my rice cooker. I made a little project out of it, by purchasing each ingredient from different stores around town. Eggs from my neighbors, sugar and salt from a dried food store in town, milk from the market (the flour I had already bought in Phitsanulok, as you don’t find flour outside of cities). I was doubtful whether the banana bread would turn out well, as I didn’t follow a recipe so much as improvise, but a few hours later, I had baked a huge, beautiful, delicious-smelling, banana bread. I immediately put it on a plate and set off to find people to feed. I tried all my neighbors, many of whom are elderly. The old couple across the street said it would hurt their stomach, so took teeny bites, but their teacher daughter and her husband, who owns the store next door, both ate bigger pieces. I gave a chunk to my toothless yard caretaker, but she immediately put it in the dog’s bowl. I swung my Mr. John and Film’s house to give them a piece, and that night, brought a chunk to my supervisor’s house, where I was eating mugata again that night. All that was left I then brought to school the next day. It was a big hit with the teachers, and everyone seemed very impressed I could cook it all by myself, which I’ll be honest, I was too.
The following week was a short one, as on Wednesday I left site to go to Loei province. My friend Katelyn was holding an English/ life skills camp for 200 high school students and five volunteers went to help her out. Loei is just over the mountains from Phitsanulok, and Katelyn’s community is on the very Northern part, bordering the Mekong River and Laos. Her site is beautiful, in the mountains, and quite remote. Katelyen recently adopted a puppy named Mervin, so in the evenings when camp as over, we all hung out, played with her puppy, and played Apples to Apples. The actual camp was three days long, and supposed to be themed around the “body”. The sessions ended up being a hodge podge of HIV/AIDS awareness, yoga, nutrition, sound words, emotional health, directions, and for some reason, the Macarena. The students were teenagers all the way up to 18, and it was a fairly difficult age group to work with- the younger kids do not try to sneak off for cigarettes or mutter curse words in Thai under their breath. Despite the lack of cohesion and the fact that half of the volunteers were sick, the camp came off quite well. They did not learn much English, but I believe we imparted more valuable gifts, like health education and an opportunity for them to express themselves creatively as individuals. Saturday evening, we hopped on the two and a half hour song taio (like a pick-up truck with benches in the back) we headed into the small city of Loei for a night out, where we drank “essence of lion” and went to a club called Robot 2029-the club of the future.
We all slept on mats on the floor at Katelyn’s house, so it was inevitable illness would spread. Julia came into the camp sick, and by the end of the three days, both the boys (Victor and Dan) were sick too. It was just a matter of time before her germs spread to me. I felt fine through Sunday and Monday, but Tuesday morning, it hit me. I went to school, but halfway through my class I knew I needed to go home. The teachers were all extremely worried and gave me three bags of noodle soup to take home. My illness lasted for a full week. Some days I woke up feeling better than others, and went to school on time every morning. Still, without fail, by 10 or 11 o’clock am, I would start to fade and head home to bed. The first two days, I had a fever and a headache, which then transitioned into a cold and sinus pain. I felt weak and had absolutely no appetite, so I did not eat much, which perpetuated feeling weak. I spent a lot of time in bed, napping, reading, and watching episodes of 24 that Katelyn lent me. While this may sound relaxing, I started to go stir crazy. I usually felt ok at night, and as a result did an array of art projects. Oddly enough, it was a very productive time creatively. But far and away, the most difficult part was the emotional toll being sick had on me. I rarely get sick and hate being bored, as a result I do not handle being sick very well.
It is hard being sick, all alone, in a foreign country. I felt profoundly homesick and lonely for the first time since being here. Even the times when physically I was doing fine, I felt anxious, restless and disassociated. With so much time to myself, to think, read, and write, I went slightly nuts. It was almost like I had been keeping myself so busy with teaching, life at site, and personal projects, that when I was finally forced to slow down and let the flying dust in my brain settle, all these thoughts and large questions crept into my mind. It probably did not help that I am reading War and Peace, a novel that deals with existential questions and the meaning of life, but for a couple days I felt incredibly confused and consumed by…I’m not sure what exactly. I was freaking out a little.
Ultimately, the crazy passed with the actual illness, and I am back to normal. All the opportunity for reflection helped me realize important things about myself, and forced me to seriously consider my life here, my motivation for doing this, and what I want to get out of it, rather than just letting the experience carry me. It was a painful week, but I think I came out of it with a clearer vision of who I am and why I am here. My house also looks nicer now, with all the art projects adorning the walls.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
17- Get Together Now
Post 17: Get Together Now
I’ve was gone from site for 16 days, and it feels like a lifetime. I left on the afternoon of June 26th. PST 2 started on Sunday, but 13 of us decided to meet up in Korat Friday evening and visit Khao Yai National park on Saturday morning. After a late night (including a hotel “suite” a la 1970 that 5 people shared, a harrowing tuk tuk race through the city streets to a bar, and a 30 minute 3 am stop at a gas station for snacks), we did not manage to leave the hotel until noon and arrived at the park gates around 4. At this point, it was not worth it to pay the entrance fee and attempt the trek in, so we opted to hitchhike to a nearby guest house and rent cabins for the night. The next morning, we hitchhiked again into the park, this time divided into three cars. The people driving my car were heading to a waterfall, so we yelled to the other volunteers to follow us. The park was beautiful with big mountains and thick greenery everywhere. The car wound slowly around the sloping hills and occasionally just after a turn, dramatic cliff-laden views filled our windshield. We saw monkeys by the side of the road and an elephant. Even for the short time, it was worth the trip. Once at the waterfall, we hiked around a bit, took some pictures, and then negotiated to have a song taio come pick us up so we could make it back to Korat, at the university hotel by 5 for the training opening meeting.
2 song taio rides and 2 bus rides later, we arrived at the training site at 5 o’clock on the dot. We checked into our rooms and said hello to the people we had not seen in 3 months. All Peace Corps volunteers go through 12 weeks of training. In Thailand, we do 10 weeks before we swear-in, and then the additional two weeks after 3 months. The training involved discussing life at site, challenges, and sharing advice, as well as additional technical training and a week of intensive Thai. For four days in the middle, there was a counterpart conference where each of us had one person (teacher or local government worker) coming to plan projects. Pii Orasa came as my counterpart and luckily we got placed at the same table as Julia for the project design workshop. I had expressed to Julia before my interest in doing sanitation education (read: wash hands after using the bathroom), and my desire to procure liquid hand soap. Julia said her co-teacher had an easy recipe for how to make liquid soap at home. It was quite the puzzle-perfect fit of goals, expertise, and compatibility. Julia, I and our co-teachers then spent the next 4 days designing a soap project (Project Bubble) that involves teaching students to make the soap, distributing the soap to schools, and then holding sanitation workshops to emphasize why it is important. Another beneficial aspect to the counterpart conference was it gave Pii Orasa a chance to see me in my “natural” environment. Normally, I live in hers. But in Korat, she was on my turf, so to speak, where I was surrounded by friends and could speak English. She kept commenting on how much I smiled and I think we understand each other better, now that she has seen another side to me. After the counterparts departed, the next week was spent mainly on additional language training. It was intense, but extremely helpful and I made headway on reading as well. Thai is a difficult language, and while I communicate effectively and relatively well, I still want to improve.
Training ended at 4:15 every day. Around 6, there was usually some kind of coordinated effort to eat. The hotel was 20 + km away from the center of Korat, and the nearest place to eat was 7-11. Most nights, we walked 15 minutes to the nearby market, which had lots of options and was fun to explore. I had the spiciest som tum I’ve had since coming to Thailand, which is saying something. A couple times, we went into Korat for Mexican food or pizza. Usually after dinner, the rest of the evening was spent hanging out in someone’s hotel room. We brought cards, music and simply enjoyed being together. Beau tracked down plastic cups and ping pong balls in the city, so there was beer pong as well. Interestingly, it appears I have improved since college. On one or two occasions, the night ended in the pool or on the roof (but you didn’t hear that from me). Late night after late night was exhausting, but time together is so precious no-one wanted to miss an opportunity, as we won’t all be together again until January.
A highlight of the week was on the fourth of July, when Peace Corps held a party for us. We played sports in the afternoon, and then the hotel staff prepared American food. There was a pseudo salad bar, mashed potatoes, spaghetti, hot dogs, and “hamburgers” with little pork patties. After dinner, we held a “no-talent” show. Acts included horrendous karaoke, interpretive dancing (which I participated in), a back-bend contest, and-hand farting. When the contest was over, 30 of us took over the only real bar in walking distance, called the Hank Over- *note this is not a clever pun on the owner’s name, rather they misspelled hangover. We requested American music and had a big dance party until a band took the stage and kicked us off. There were no fireworks, no parades, but it was still a fourth of July.
Training ended on Friday and 20 of us took vans to Chaibadan, our original training site, to visit our host families. My family has called me almost every week since being at site, and I looked forward to visiting them and seeing the village again. My host father picked me up and took me back to the house, where my sisters per usual were watching TV. They got a new puppy since I left, so I sat and played with the puppy and told them about my life at site. Then we went and visit my grandmother and a few of the neighbors who hosted volunteers also, but that was awkward as only 3 out of 10 of us came back to visit that particular village. It was strange to see how quiet the village was with all of us gone, and I felt a little nostalgic, but still ready to leave. At 9:30 the next morning, the same van took 10 of us to Bangkok. Once checked in at our somewhat grimy Bangkok guest house, we took the skytrain to the giant mall complex. We ate delicious Mexican food with real guacamole and went to see movies at the English language theater. We hit up the grocery store and bought foreign food for ourselves and for our people back at site. I bought goldfish for Film, granola bars for Pii Orasa, and Werthers Originals for my students. That night, we went to the Arabic part of Bangkok and had fantastic Middle Eastern food and hookah at an Egyptian restaurant. The night ended at an “underground jazz club” where the singer did Queen and Rihanna covers on repeat. All in all, it was an excellent end to a long and exhausting two weeks. I felt a little sad going back to site, saying bye to my friends and knowing I’d be [in a sense] alone again, but now that I am back in my house, in my village, in my town, it feels good. I can’t wait to get my routine going again and get to work on the projects we devised at PST 2…
I’ve was gone from site for 16 days, and it feels like a lifetime. I left on the afternoon of June 26th. PST 2 started on Sunday, but 13 of us decided to meet up in Korat Friday evening and visit Khao Yai National park on Saturday morning. After a late night (including a hotel “suite” a la 1970 that 5 people shared, a harrowing tuk tuk race through the city streets to a bar, and a 30 minute 3 am stop at a gas station for snacks), we did not manage to leave the hotel until noon and arrived at the park gates around 4. At this point, it was not worth it to pay the entrance fee and attempt the trek in, so we opted to hitchhike to a nearby guest house and rent cabins for the night. The next morning, we hitchhiked again into the park, this time divided into three cars. The people driving my car were heading to a waterfall, so we yelled to the other volunteers to follow us. The park was beautiful with big mountains and thick greenery everywhere. The car wound slowly around the sloping hills and occasionally just after a turn, dramatic cliff-laden views filled our windshield. We saw monkeys by the side of the road and an elephant. Even for the short time, it was worth the trip. Once at the waterfall, we hiked around a bit, took some pictures, and then negotiated to have a song taio come pick us up so we could make it back to Korat, at the university hotel by 5 for the training opening meeting.
2 song taio rides and 2 bus rides later, we arrived at the training site at 5 o’clock on the dot. We checked into our rooms and said hello to the people we had not seen in 3 months. All Peace Corps volunteers go through 12 weeks of training. In Thailand, we do 10 weeks before we swear-in, and then the additional two weeks after 3 months. The training involved discussing life at site, challenges, and sharing advice, as well as additional technical training and a week of intensive Thai. For four days in the middle, there was a counterpart conference where each of us had one person (teacher or local government worker) coming to plan projects. Pii Orasa came as my counterpart and luckily we got placed at the same table as Julia for the project design workshop. I had expressed to Julia before my interest in doing sanitation education (read: wash hands after using the bathroom), and my desire to procure liquid hand soap. Julia said her co-teacher had an easy recipe for how to make liquid soap at home. It was quite the puzzle-perfect fit of goals, expertise, and compatibility. Julia, I and our co-teachers then spent the next 4 days designing a soap project (Project Bubble) that involves teaching students to make the soap, distributing the soap to schools, and then holding sanitation workshops to emphasize why it is important. Another beneficial aspect to the counterpart conference was it gave Pii Orasa a chance to see me in my “natural” environment. Normally, I live in hers. But in Korat, she was on my turf, so to speak, where I was surrounded by friends and could speak English. She kept commenting on how much I smiled and I think we understand each other better, now that she has seen another side to me. After the counterparts departed, the next week was spent mainly on additional language training. It was intense, but extremely helpful and I made headway on reading as well. Thai is a difficult language, and while I communicate effectively and relatively well, I still want to improve.
Training ended at 4:15 every day. Around 6, there was usually some kind of coordinated effort to eat. The hotel was 20 + km away from the center of Korat, and the nearest place to eat was 7-11. Most nights, we walked 15 minutes to the nearby market, which had lots of options and was fun to explore. I had the spiciest som tum I’ve had since coming to Thailand, which is saying something. A couple times, we went into Korat for Mexican food or pizza. Usually after dinner, the rest of the evening was spent hanging out in someone’s hotel room. We brought cards, music and simply enjoyed being together. Beau tracked down plastic cups and ping pong balls in the city, so there was beer pong as well. Interestingly, it appears I have improved since college. On one or two occasions, the night ended in the pool or on the roof (but you didn’t hear that from me). Late night after late night was exhausting, but time together is so precious no-one wanted to miss an opportunity, as we won’t all be together again until January.
A highlight of the week was on the fourth of July, when Peace Corps held a party for us. We played sports in the afternoon, and then the hotel staff prepared American food. There was a pseudo salad bar, mashed potatoes, spaghetti, hot dogs, and “hamburgers” with little pork patties. After dinner, we held a “no-talent” show. Acts included horrendous karaoke, interpretive dancing (which I participated in), a back-bend contest, and-hand farting. When the contest was over, 30 of us took over the only real bar in walking distance, called the Hank Over- *note this is not a clever pun on the owner’s name, rather they misspelled hangover. We requested American music and had a big dance party until a band took the stage and kicked us off. There were no fireworks, no parades, but it was still a fourth of July.
Training ended on Friday and 20 of us took vans to Chaibadan, our original training site, to visit our host families. My family has called me almost every week since being at site, and I looked forward to visiting them and seeing the village again. My host father picked me up and took me back to the house, where my sisters per usual were watching TV. They got a new puppy since I left, so I sat and played with the puppy and told them about my life at site. Then we went and visit my grandmother and a few of the neighbors who hosted volunteers also, but that was awkward as only 3 out of 10 of us came back to visit that particular village. It was strange to see how quiet the village was with all of us gone, and I felt a little nostalgic, but still ready to leave. At 9:30 the next morning, the same van took 10 of us to Bangkok. Once checked in at our somewhat grimy Bangkok guest house, we took the skytrain to the giant mall complex. We ate delicious Mexican food with real guacamole and went to see movies at the English language theater. We hit up the grocery store and bought foreign food for ourselves and for our people back at site. I bought goldfish for Film, granola bars for Pii Orasa, and Werthers Originals for my students. That night, we went to the Arabic part of Bangkok and had fantastic Middle Eastern food and hookah at an Egyptian restaurant. The night ended at an “underground jazz club” where the singer did Queen and Rihanna covers on repeat. All in all, it was an excellent end to a long and exhausting two weeks. I felt a little sad going back to site, saying bye to my friends and knowing I’d be [in a sense] alone again, but now that I am back in my house, in my village, in my town, it feels good. I can’t wait to get my routine going again and get to work on the projects we devised at PST 2…
Saturday, June 20, 2009
16: A CAT chasing its tail
One of my “frequently asked questions” (and by frequent I mean my family and approximately two others have inquired), is what my daily life is like. Well fair friends, you are in for a treat, for I shall tell you. Every morning, I wake up at 6:30 am. Even when I do not have to go at school, the combination of rice trucks, my confused rooster, and rowdy neighbors rouses me from my slumber fairly early anyway. I do yoga and pilates every morning for about a half an hour, which not only makes me feel centered and awake, but also stretches my body, stiff from sleeping on a mattress (albeit a large one) on the floor. Then I open my doors, curtains, and gate, and eat breakfast on my porch. During the hot season, I ate mangos and bananas and pineapple every day, which was a very yellow breakfast, but a delicious one. Now that it is rainy season, I am somewhat less than impressed with the fruit options. Watermelons are everywhere and I eat them in abundance, but for some reason I have a firm opposition to eating watermelon in the morning. The other ubiquitous fruit types are rambutans, which I feel “meh” about, and durien, which is frankly disgusting. It can be wonderful only eating fruit that is locally grown, because it is fresh and delicious and you see the face of the person who grew it. On the downside, sometimes a girl just wants a banana in the morning and does not want to have to travel 45 minutes to get one.
School (which I’ve already written about) goes from 8- around 3:45. I leave for my daily bike rides (or run/aerobics class) at 5. Thus, each day there is about an hour of ‘in between’ time. Some days, I go run errands. Other days, I return home, change into comfy clothes, and collapse into my hammock under the jackfruit tree with my i-pod and a cool glass of water. The days at school are draining, although [generally] wonderful, and all I want to do when they are over is have 30 minutes to loll in my hammock and daydream off into the sky. Pii Baw can usually be found puttering around my yard at this time, and on lucky days she will push the hammock for me, which creates a lovely breeze. I try to nap, but am never successful because after-school-before-dinner is the time when kids are running amuck, and often like to come and peek into my gate and yell “hello” at me.
A bit before five, I change into my biking gear and set off for Mr. John’s house, about 2 k away near the market. The assembled group for that day sets off, barring rain, and the journey begins. These bike rides continue to be a significant source of pleasure for me, because the landscape is so beautiful and I really love to cycle. I get home around 7:15, unless I eat with Mr. John and Film, and concoct some sort of dinner. From 8 to bedtime is wildcard time. I’ve been known to read, write in my journal, construct blog entries (like right now), tidy my house, do some sort of minor art project, chat on the phone with other volunteers, or a combination of the above. My shower gets thrown in there somewhere, and as of yet, I have not found myself at a loss for something to do. Most of you know I am quite adept at entertaining myself.
Lately my evenings have become dominated by CAT, otherwise known as Community Assessment Tools. CAT (meow) is new to PC Thailand this year. As volunteers, we arrive at site filled with the desire to improve our communities and help its people. But what does that entail? What needs to be developed? What are the needs and wishes of the community? What are the issues not being addressed? The answers to these questions are neither intuitive nor obvious. Sometimes, clear projects will fall across your path. For example, the environmental habits of Thai people are awful. The people in rural areas remain unaware of global warming, and not only consume massive amounts of plastic, but burn all their garbage, including toxics. I think it’s fair to say that environmental education and development are needed in a majority of rural communities in Thailand. However, every community is unique and thus has unique issues. For real, sustainable, and meaningful development, the communities must be involved in creating and executing projects. Peace Corps is not about sending in 22 year old farangs to tell people who have grown up in these towns what they should be doing better. If the locals are not interested in a project, nothing will get accomplished. Thus to have successful projects, we must first collect information and talk to people about their communities. Enter CAT.
Gathering information about the villages is not a simple task. What is the main force driving the economy? What are the specific health issues? How many people are registered as having HIV/AIDS? How many students continue their education past the 9th grade? How many people are living below the poverty line? Are the officials doing their jobs properly? These are necessary questions with specific answers that cannot be answered passively. CAT is basically a series of tasks, surveys, activities, techniques etc…that will answer these questions and aid community integration. Examples of include drawing community maps and writing up daily and yearly schedules for various people in the community. They also provided 20 (or so) surveys about agriculture, the environment, health, AIDS, schools, local government structure etc… etc… to be filled out by knowledgeable people. These questionnaires inquire about factual data, but also about the main problems, resources available, current projects, and potential projects. These “needs” assessments are meant to help us volunteers find a project, but also to meet as many people in the community as possible. Getting to know the health workers and village headmen is helpful, because once we have a project that we want to execute, we can’t do it alone, nor should we. We need Thai counterparts to help with communication and planning, as well as support from the community and those who provide funding.
In one week, I head to Korat, a large city in Western Isaan, for a second round of training. It will last two weeks, and involve learning more Thai, additional sessions about Thai politics and culture, more technical stuff, and a counterpart conference. At PST2, every volunteer has to give a brief CAT presentation. For us TCCO, our presentations should focus on our schools. How many students, how many teachers, assets, challenges, needs, potential projects etc… For CBOD volunteers, CAT is a much bigger deal. At the beginning, it is essentially all they are supposed to be doing, because they arrive at site with no pre-existing project, and must use CAT to find one. Their presentations are on their communities as a whole. While I want to have secondary projects with my schools, I am also interested in community development, and so have spent my past two community days (Fridays when I do not teach), surveying. I went to two local health stations and the local governing body with questionnaires and chatted with the people there.
Most of my evenings over the past two weeks have been spent CATting, or processing the information I have collected at my schools and drawing school maps. I have so many ideas for projects already, based on my personal observations, but I look forward to discovering things about Wat Bot I have not discovered on my own. I am also looking forward to the English language movie theater and Mexican restaurant in Korat (according to Lonely Planet), spending two weeks in a hotel with all the other volunteers, the hiking/camping trip 10 of us have planned for the weekend before, and then visiting my host family in Lopburi after PST2 finishes. I will return home on July 12 (Happy Birthday Sarah!) with 3 days to prepare for a large teacher training I am helping to plan. I’ll let you folks now how allllllll that goes.
School (which I’ve already written about) goes from 8- around 3:45. I leave for my daily bike rides (or run/aerobics class) at 5. Thus, each day there is about an hour of ‘in between’ time. Some days, I go run errands. Other days, I return home, change into comfy clothes, and collapse into my hammock under the jackfruit tree with my i-pod and a cool glass of water. The days at school are draining, although [generally] wonderful, and all I want to do when they are over is have 30 minutes to loll in my hammock and daydream off into the sky. Pii Baw can usually be found puttering around my yard at this time, and on lucky days she will push the hammock for me, which creates a lovely breeze. I try to nap, but am never successful because after-school-before-dinner is the time when kids are running amuck, and often like to come and peek into my gate and yell “hello” at me.
A bit before five, I change into my biking gear and set off for Mr. John’s house, about 2 k away near the market. The assembled group for that day sets off, barring rain, and the journey begins. These bike rides continue to be a significant source of pleasure for me, because the landscape is so beautiful and I really love to cycle. I get home around 7:15, unless I eat with Mr. John and Film, and concoct some sort of dinner. From 8 to bedtime is wildcard time. I’ve been known to read, write in my journal, construct blog entries (like right now), tidy my house, do some sort of minor art project, chat on the phone with other volunteers, or a combination of the above. My shower gets thrown in there somewhere, and as of yet, I have not found myself at a loss for something to do. Most of you know I am quite adept at entertaining myself.
Lately my evenings have become dominated by CAT, otherwise known as Community Assessment Tools. CAT (meow) is new to PC Thailand this year. As volunteers, we arrive at site filled with the desire to improve our communities and help its people. But what does that entail? What needs to be developed? What are the needs and wishes of the community? What are the issues not being addressed? The answers to these questions are neither intuitive nor obvious. Sometimes, clear projects will fall across your path. For example, the environmental habits of Thai people are awful. The people in rural areas remain unaware of global warming, and not only consume massive amounts of plastic, but burn all their garbage, including toxics. I think it’s fair to say that environmental education and development are needed in a majority of rural communities in Thailand. However, every community is unique and thus has unique issues. For real, sustainable, and meaningful development, the communities must be involved in creating and executing projects. Peace Corps is not about sending in 22 year old farangs to tell people who have grown up in these towns what they should be doing better. If the locals are not interested in a project, nothing will get accomplished. Thus to have successful projects, we must first collect information and talk to people about their communities. Enter CAT.
Gathering information about the villages is not a simple task. What is the main force driving the economy? What are the specific health issues? How many people are registered as having HIV/AIDS? How many students continue their education past the 9th grade? How many people are living below the poverty line? Are the officials doing their jobs properly? These are necessary questions with specific answers that cannot be answered passively. CAT is basically a series of tasks, surveys, activities, techniques etc…that will answer these questions and aid community integration. Examples of include drawing community maps and writing up daily and yearly schedules for various people in the community. They also provided 20 (or so) surveys about agriculture, the environment, health, AIDS, schools, local government structure etc… etc… to be filled out by knowledgeable people. These questionnaires inquire about factual data, but also about the main problems, resources available, current projects, and potential projects. These “needs” assessments are meant to help us volunteers find a project, but also to meet as many people in the community as possible. Getting to know the health workers and village headmen is helpful, because once we have a project that we want to execute, we can’t do it alone, nor should we. We need Thai counterparts to help with communication and planning, as well as support from the community and those who provide funding.
In one week, I head to Korat, a large city in Western Isaan, for a second round of training. It will last two weeks, and involve learning more Thai, additional sessions about Thai politics and culture, more technical stuff, and a counterpart conference. At PST2, every volunteer has to give a brief CAT presentation. For us TCCO, our presentations should focus on our schools. How many students, how many teachers, assets, challenges, needs, potential projects etc… For CBOD volunteers, CAT is a much bigger deal. At the beginning, it is essentially all they are supposed to be doing, because they arrive at site with no pre-existing project, and must use CAT to find one. Their presentations are on their communities as a whole. While I want to have secondary projects with my schools, I am also interested in community development, and so have spent my past two community days (Fridays when I do not teach), surveying. I went to two local health stations and the local governing body with questionnaires and chatted with the people there.
Most of my evenings over the past two weeks have been spent CATting, or processing the information I have collected at my schools and drawing school maps. I have so many ideas for projects already, based on my personal observations, but I look forward to discovering things about Wat Bot I have not discovered on my own. I am also looking forward to the English language movie theater and Mexican restaurant in Korat (according to Lonely Planet), spending two weeks in a hotel with all the other volunteers, the hiking/camping trip 10 of us have planned for the weekend before, and then visiting my host family in Lopburi after PST2 finishes. I will return home on July 12 (Happy Birthday Sarah!) with 3 days to prepare for a large teacher training I am helping to plan. I’ll let you folks now how allllllll that goes.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Bekah in Wonderland
Every year in Thailand, some English language education body headquartered in Bangkok selects a theme for a national English camp. From what I understand, not every school or district must put on the camp, but many do. This year, the theme was “Wonderland of English Camp”. Pii Som mentioned to me a few weeks ago that Wat Bot School was holding one. While I knew I would be teaching at it, I was unsure of what my role was in organization and planning. English camps are an inevitable part of Peace Corps Thailand life- Thai people love them. Camps usually last anywhere from 1 to 3 days, can be localized at a school or district-wide, range in size from 50 students to 200, and can be themed or not. I, and others, doubt the effectiveness and sustainability of English camps- how much will the kids really gain or learn from a few intense days? But there are always banners with the title of the camp, certificates handed out at the end (Thai people love certificates too), and something tangible to put in a report. No English camp is complete without a farang, and many volunteers dedicate a significant amount of time to attending and putting on camps. I do think camps have some value-namely in getting the kids excited about English and showing them learning can be fun- but I am not the biggest fan either. Regardless, my school and co-teacher sponsored this one, so of course I would be involved.
Pii Som took care of logistical stuff, like funding, food, inviting teachers and students, so my responsibilities were centered on what to teach. This camp was district wide, so two sixth grade students from somewhere around 20 schools in the district came with an accompanying teacher. There were about 60 students and 14 teachers. Dan and Kelsi, the two volunteers in Sukothai, were luckily able to come and help out. Pii Som wanted the camp to be a general overview of English subjects: “about me”, “shopping”, “directions”, “health and the body” etc…, with 9 rotations total. On Wednesday, there were three sessions where all 60 students learned together. Dan, Kelsi, and I taught about American holidays. We made giant flashcards with colored pencils, did a New Years countdown, and Dan acted like a turkey. Thursday and Friday morning, there was a series of 6 rotations, 10 students per group, each rotation 1 hour and fifteen minutes. Each group had a color.
My topic was “Wh questions” words. I decided to create a “mystery” story and then scavenger hunt, where the students had to collect clues by answering “Wh questions”. I wrote a short story titled “Who Stole the Cookies from the Cookie Jar?”, and made serious use of clipart to make a visual storyboard, to help the students understand words they did not know, like “kitchen” or “stole”. I randomly had a 26 year old Danish teaching assistant named Klaus, who teaches at a special education school in Phitsanulok. Each farang teacher was supposed to have a Thai counterpart, to give the camp an element of teacher training, but my counterpart was Pii Som who did not have time to teach with me because she was in charge. Klaus however made an excellent assistant.
First, we taught the kids “who, what, where, when, and which” using charades, dialogue modeling, and Thai translation. Then we went through the story slowly, using pictures and actions to help them understand. Klaus took one group of five and I took the other (in each rotation) and we went through 5 reading comprehension questions about the story (“Who baked the cookies?”; “Where did Johnny bake the cookies?”; Which types of cookies did Johnny bake?”). Once they completed the worksheet, each group got a manila envelope with a question mark on it. They pulled out the piece of paper with their group’s color and read the clue. For example, “who is the foreign teacher who lives in Sukothai, with blonde hair, and a big body?” The students would think, yell “Dan!” and set off running for Dan’s classroom, where they would find another envelope. “Where do students eat lunch?” “Roong A-Haan”. “Which building does pratom 6 study in?” etc… etc… After they made 5 stops and collected 5 clues, they returned to the classroom. There, they received another worksheet and had to match their clues to the questions. “Who stole the cookies” “Where did they go?” “When were they stolen?” etc…
It was an activity that took a lot of work on my part, but the students responded incredibly well. They seemed to be having so much fun, and maybe even learned the question words. The running all over the school caught the attention of teachers as well, and I had people coming up to me all day asking about the activity. Many teachers even asked for copies of the worksheets. It showed me that many of Thai teachers really want to do creative, exciting activities with their students, but do not know how, because they have never been taught about student-centered learning and being innovative in the classroom. In addition, Kelsi, Dan and I lead many games and songs for the whole group. We played an awesome game where the kids pretended to be riding various vehicles, sang silly songs, and organized a round of steal-the-bacon.
Dan and Kelsi were the first volunteers to visit my site. A few weeks ago, the Peace Corps director in Thailand came to visit for a few hours, but Dan and Kelsi were genuinely my guests. I met them at the market on Tuesday evening, and we went bought things to eat for dinner and snack on, like fried chicken (for Dan) and locally made popcorn. Back at my house, the three of us kicked back and relaxed. Since our daily lives at site do not involve farangs, sitting around a table with two friends is quite the luxury. They stayed for four nights, each night upon returning home, we pretty much did the same thing, involving beer, fruit, fried chicken (for Dan), and various arts and crafts with music in the background. Kelsi and I attempted to choreograph a dance for our friend’s birthday, inspired by Thai aerobics.
On Wednesday evening, Pii Orasa took us to an event in a nearby village. Boy and girl scouts are big in Thailand, and every school has a scouting day where the students wear scouty uniforms and do vaguely outdoorsy activities. This event was for all the adult scouting groups, 10 groups with 10 people total. They were all drunk, all wearing colored neck kerchiefs, and there was dancing around a bonfire involved. We only stayed and watched the “show” until 9, and then went back home 1) because it was bizarre, and b) because the mosquitoes were attacking our sweet foreign skin. Pii Som took us to dinner at her favorite restaurant/som tum place and then the weekly wat market on Thursday. Then on Friday, all the teachers had a little party to celebrate the end of the camp. In Dan’s honor, there was fried chicken. It was a fun and exhausting week, but I am looking forward to a bit of “normalcy” next week.
Pii Som took care of logistical stuff, like funding, food, inviting teachers and students, so my responsibilities were centered on what to teach. This camp was district wide, so two sixth grade students from somewhere around 20 schools in the district came with an accompanying teacher. There were about 60 students and 14 teachers. Dan and Kelsi, the two volunteers in Sukothai, were luckily able to come and help out. Pii Som wanted the camp to be a general overview of English subjects: “about me”, “shopping”, “directions”, “health and the body” etc…, with 9 rotations total. On Wednesday, there were three sessions where all 60 students learned together. Dan, Kelsi, and I taught about American holidays. We made giant flashcards with colored pencils, did a New Years countdown, and Dan acted like a turkey. Thursday and Friday morning, there was a series of 6 rotations, 10 students per group, each rotation 1 hour and fifteen minutes. Each group had a color.
My topic was “Wh questions” words. I decided to create a “mystery” story and then scavenger hunt, where the students had to collect clues by answering “Wh questions”. I wrote a short story titled “Who Stole the Cookies from the Cookie Jar?”, and made serious use of clipart to make a visual storyboard, to help the students understand words they did not know, like “kitchen” or “stole”. I randomly had a 26 year old Danish teaching assistant named Klaus, who teaches at a special education school in Phitsanulok. Each farang teacher was supposed to have a Thai counterpart, to give the camp an element of teacher training, but my counterpart was Pii Som who did not have time to teach with me because she was in charge. Klaus however made an excellent assistant.
First, we taught the kids “who, what, where, when, and which” using charades, dialogue modeling, and Thai translation. Then we went through the story slowly, using pictures and actions to help them understand. Klaus took one group of five and I took the other (in each rotation) and we went through 5 reading comprehension questions about the story (“Who baked the cookies?”; “Where did Johnny bake the cookies?”; Which types of cookies did Johnny bake?”). Once they completed the worksheet, each group got a manila envelope with a question mark on it. They pulled out the piece of paper with their group’s color and read the clue. For example, “who is the foreign teacher who lives in Sukothai, with blonde hair, and a big body?” The students would think, yell “Dan!” and set off running for Dan’s classroom, where they would find another envelope. “Where do students eat lunch?” “Roong A-Haan”. “Which building does pratom 6 study in?” etc… etc… After they made 5 stops and collected 5 clues, they returned to the classroom. There, they received another worksheet and had to match their clues to the questions. “Who stole the cookies” “Where did they go?” “When were they stolen?” etc…
It was an activity that took a lot of work on my part, but the students responded incredibly well. They seemed to be having so much fun, and maybe even learned the question words. The running all over the school caught the attention of teachers as well, and I had people coming up to me all day asking about the activity. Many teachers even asked for copies of the worksheets. It showed me that many of Thai teachers really want to do creative, exciting activities with their students, but do not know how, because they have never been taught about student-centered learning and being innovative in the classroom. In addition, Kelsi, Dan and I lead many games and songs for the whole group. We played an awesome game where the kids pretended to be riding various vehicles, sang silly songs, and organized a round of steal-the-bacon.
Dan and Kelsi were the first volunteers to visit my site. A few weeks ago, the Peace Corps director in Thailand came to visit for a few hours, but Dan and Kelsi were genuinely my guests. I met them at the market on Tuesday evening, and we went bought things to eat for dinner and snack on, like fried chicken (for Dan) and locally made popcorn. Back at my house, the three of us kicked back and relaxed. Since our daily lives at site do not involve farangs, sitting around a table with two friends is quite the luxury. They stayed for four nights, each night upon returning home, we pretty much did the same thing, involving beer, fruit, fried chicken (for Dan), and various arts and crafts with music in the background. Kelsi and I attempted to choreograph a dance for our friend’s birthday, inspired by Thai aerobics.
On Wednesday evening, Pii Orasa took us to an event in a nearby village. Boy and girl scouts are big in Thailand, and every school has a scouting day where the students wear scouty uniforms and do vaguely outdoorsy activities. This event was for all the adult scouting groups, 10 groups with 10 people total. They were all drunk, all wearing colored neck kerchiefs, and there was dancing around a bonfire involved. We only stayed and watched the “show” until 9, and then went back home 1) because it was bizarre, and b) because the mosquitoes were attacking our sweet foreign skin. Pii Som took us to dinner at her favorite restaurant/som tum place and then the weekly wat market on Thursday. Then on Friday, all the teachers had a little party to celebrate the end of the camp. In Dan’s honor, there was fried chicken. It was a fun and exhausting week, but I am looking forward to a bit of “normalcy” next week.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Post 14: School House Rock
Schools have been open for a few weeks now, and I kept intending to write a thorough (and eloquent) blog post detailing my schools and life as a teacher. After the first few days at school, I felt too exhausted to write. Then, the material began gathering, accruing and coalescing (this is where the eloquence part comes in) into one massive load of information that felt too big to tackle-an experiential multi-headed monster. In other words, I put off blogging because there was too much to write about, and I was busy. So here is my first attempt. I think I have mentioned this before, but I work at two schools. The first is the main school in the district…
Wat Bot School
Wat Bot school has kindergarten (anuban) all the way through maw 3, or the equivalent of ninth grade. Education in Thailand is free up until ninth grade, and then students have the option of continuing with the final three years of secondary education, if they can pay. Wat Bot school has about 850 students- 650 pratom students (1st through 6th grade) and 200 matayum students (7th grade and up). There are somewhere between 30 and 40 teachers. As is true at most Thai schools, a vast majority of the teachers are women. The administrators, however, are men. Like in the states, the primary school teachers teach every subject while secondary teachers specialize.
I am teaching two maw 1 classes, level 1 and level 2. Within grades, students are divided into classes by their “levels”, or relative abilities. However, the divisions into level 1 and level 2 (at least for English) seem fairly arbitrary. Thus far the students who are in the allegedly “less smart” class are better behaved and more productive workers. My co-teacher, Pii Som, continually tells me how all the students are bad, not smart, and do not like to work. Since the “smarter” (read: wealthier) students go to school in the city, I think it is a common perception that students in the country schools are less capable. But from what I have observed, these are intelligent, motivated, and [mostly] well-behaved, normal kids, which means that they are willing to learn and will listen, but have difficulty sitting and listening to dictation for two hours (don’t we all?). They are all excited to be learning with the “farang” teacher, and even seem to enjoy my attempts at classroom management, a new concept for Thai schools. Many Thai teachers use varying degrees of corporal punishment, from light raps on the head to paddles. I prefer positive reinforcement. However, the ways students are treated is different here. In America, if the students do not understand the material, the responsibility lays in the teacher’s hands. The students may not be learning because the teacher is not presenting the material effectively. In Thailand, if the students are not learning, it is because they are slow, bad and stupid. No culpability at all is put on the teachers. And when a teacher takes an afternoon off to run errands or sit in another teacher’s classroom, it is the students responsibility to learn on their own.
I teach at Wat Bot school on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and two Wednesdays ago was the first day of school. It was a completely overwhelming experience at first, with 850 students and their parents running around in normal first day confusion, staring at me as they went. I will admit I was intimidated by the sheer number of children and unsure of my place within the school community. The students spent the entire first day cleaning the school from top to bottom. The day felt long and exhausting, but I knew it would get easier as it grew more familiar. The second day, I told my co-teacher clearly and adamantly that I wanted to observe her teach, as Peace Corps strongly recommends we spend at least two weeks doing, to assess the students and the teachers, and get our bearings. I was sitting in the back of the class with my pen and paper poised to observe and take notes, when Pii Som says “Bekah, come up to the front of the classroom. What will you teach today?” I had nothing planned and was taken off guard, but I improvised and tried to be dynamic and positive.
Pii Som had told me multiple times she did not want school to open and was not excited, but she totally fed off my energy and motivation. By the end of the class, she was smiling, having fun, and even building on the activity I introduced in the classroom. It made me see that by simply providing an alternative teaching model, I may be able to affect some kind of change. However, I recently found out that her attitude is not [only] a result of not enjoying her job. Apparently the paw-aw at the school and Pii Som do not get along. He is unfriendly, arrogant, and close-minded. She told me today that once I return to America, she wants to change schools because he makes her so miserable.
Wat Bot School has been open for four weeks, but I have barely taught. The students spent a large portion of time the first few days cleaning the school and then hanging out. The second week, the school had a 2 week “training” on manners and etiquette. The first week (but second week of school), only matayum students came to school- all the primary students had the days off. The teachers taught multiple rotations on various subjects, ranging from hand-washing (which I taught) to singing the anthem of Phitsanulok province to the appropriate length of hair for girls. There were also sessions on “wai”ing, the formal form of greeting in Thailand, and how to be polite when purchasing things in a store. Allegedly since the students are “bad”, this type of training is more important than actual education. The second week of the manners training, the high school students taught the primary students, so yet again, no actual learning occurred. Then last week, the school hosted a district wide English camp (a full post about that to come), so I did not teach my regular classes. It is totally normal on any given day for students to be roaming about the school, hanging out on benches, and generally doing anything but studying. If the teachers don’t feel like teaching, they don’t. It is frustrating for me to see sometimes, because I feel like these kids have so much potential and could be learning so much, but aren’t given the chance.
Thangam
On Mondays and Tuesdays, I go to Chumchon Ban Thangam, or the Thangam community school. It has kindergarten through sixth grade, and a grand total of 76 students. The school is underfunded and only has six teachers, not including the woman who cares for the anuban kids. Unlike Wat Bot school, where just as many teachers live outside of the community as in, a majority of the teachers at Thangam school were born and raised in Thangam. My co-teacher, Pii Orasa, is such a case. She teaches first grade and this year only has four students. However, the school decided to combine the first and second grade classes for English, and thus I have 13 students. Pii Orasa, unlike Pii Som, clearly loves to teach and loves her students. She has a wonderful manner with children and loves to sing songs and be silly in the classroom. She is a bit like a mother figure at the school, and the other teachers frequently wander into the classroom with questions or wailing children. Since Pii Orasa’s students are so young, I also teach the sixth graders with another teacher. That class has eleven students.
Everything is on such a small scale at Thangam it almost feels like an elf school. The fact that it is such a local, community-based school means that everything is very relaxed. The bell rings when teachers decide to push the bell button and the “schedule” is more like a general guideline. The teachers at Wat Bot school are relatively reliable about teaching when they are supposed to. Not true at Thangam, I think I have yet to be there one day when all six teachers were present. Howoever, the students are remarkably adept at taking care of themselves and never get into mischief. Furthermore, teachers at Thangam are constantly using the TV to “teach”. Each classroom does have a TV, as part of a push by the Thai government to integrate technology into the classroom. Most of the teachers will turn it on and either sit in the back of the classroom or wander off. The second grade classroom is right next to the bathroom, and I have literally passed it one time in three weeks when the TV was not turned on. This really bothers me, because no matter informative, having 7 year in a classroom and passively stare at a television is not educational. When I asked the teachers about it, they said it is because they are under-staffed and get tired, which is fair, but I know if I was to calculate the amount of hours the teachers actively spent teaching their students, it would be shockingly low. In some ways, it feels more like a day care than a school.
Usually when I teach the little kids, we take the class outside to the area underneath the mango trees. There are tables for the kids to sit on and work, and it is a quiet, shady space. Although I do not have a chalk board, I love teaching outside and the kids have room to move around, particularly useful when I have them make letter shapes with their bodies or play “letter zoo” (B bear, C cat, D duck, E elephant etc…). Pii Orasa is really good and keeping a schedule and starting class on time. Pii Sompit, however, almost always leaves the students to their own devices or turns on the TV, so I can basically teach whenever. There are usual times I teach, but if here or there I want to push class back thirty minutes or teach an extra half hour that day, it is fine. The sixth graders get so excited when I come to teach, but it is clear they are not used to using their brains at school. Seriously, the concept of critical thinking is new to them at age 11.
For lunch, we eat food hand-cooked at the school by a retired teacher, usually sitting at a picnic table under a big tree, and everyone shares fruit. When we finish eating, a few nearby students get corralled to rinse our dishes, and then the bell gets pushed again. I really enjoy spending time with Pii Orasa, even when I am not teaching with her, and when I have time, help her teach art to the first and second graders. I have already started brainstorming ideas for the school, like implementing a recycling program and holding a teacher training workshop (where I emphasize turning on a TV is not teaching) and all six teachers, and the paw-aw, have already made me feel welcome and valued.
PS-If you want a picture CD, email me your mailing address.
I miss you all!
Wat Bot School
Wat Bot school has kindergarten (anuban) all the way through maw 3, or the equivalent of ninth grade. Education in Thailand is free up until ninth grade, and then students have the option of continuing with the final three years of secondary education, if they can pay. Wat Bot school has about 850 students- 650 pratom students (1st through 6th grade) and 200 matayum students (7th grade and up). There are somewhere between 30 and 40 teachers. As is true at most Thai schools, a vast majority of the teachers are women. The administrators, however, are men. Like in the states, the primary school teachers teach every subject while secondary teachers specialize.
I am teaching two maw 1 classes, level 1 and level 2. Within grades, students are divided into classes by their “levels”, or relative abilities. However, the divisions into level 1 and level 2 (at least for English) seem fairly arbitrary. Thus far the students who are in the allegedly “less smart” class are better behaved and more productive workers. My co-teacher, Pii Som, continually tells me how all the students are bad, not smart, and do not like to work. Since the “smarter” (read: wealthier) students go to school in the city, I think it is a common perception that students in the country schools are less capable. But from what I have observed, these are intelligent, motivated, and [mostly] well-behaved, normal kids, which means that they are willing to learn and will listen, but have difficulty sitting and listening to dictation for two hours (don’t we all?). They are all excited to be learning with the “farang” teacher, and even seem to enjoy my attempts at classroom management, a new concept for Thai schools. Many Thai teachers use varying degrees of corporal punishment, from light raps on the head to paddles. I prefer positive reinforcement. However, the ways students are treated is different here. In America, if the students do not understand the material, the responsibility lays in the teacher’s hands. The students may not be learning because the teacher is not presenting the material effectively. In Thailand, if the students are not learning, it is because they are slow, bad and stupid. No culpability at all is put on the teachers. And when a teacher takes an afternoon off to run errands or sit in another teacher’s classroom, it is the students responsibility to learn on their own.
I teach at Wat Bot school on Wednesdays and Thursdays, and two Wednesdays ago was the first day of school. It was a completely overwhelming experience at first, with 850 students and their parents running around in normal first day confusion, staring at me as they went. I will admit I was intimidated by the sheer number of children and unsure of my place within the school community. The students spent the entire first day cleaning the school from top to bottom. The day felt long and exhausting, but I knew it would get easier as it grew more familiar. The second day, I told my co-teacher clearly and adamantly that I wanted to observe her teach, as Peace Corps strongly recommends we spend at least two weeks doing, to assess the students and the teachers, and get our bearings. I was sitting in the back of the class with my pen and paper poised to observe and take notes, when Pii Som says “Bekah, come up to the front of the classroom. What will you teach today?” I had nothing planned and was taken off guard, but I improvised and tried to be dynamic and positive.
Pii Som had told me multiple times she did not want school to open and was not excited, but she totally fed off my energy and motivation. By the end of the class, she was smiling, having fun, and even building on the activity I introduced in the classroom. It made me see that by simply providing an alternative teaching model, I may be able to affect some kind of change. However, I recently found out that her attitude is not [only] a result of not enjoying her job. Apparently the paw-aw at the school and Pii Som do not get along. He is unfriendly, arrogant, and close-minded. She told me today that once I return to America, she wants to change schools because he makes her so miserable.
Wat Bot School has been open for four weeks, but I have barely taught. The students spent a large portion of time the first few days cleaning the school and then hanging out. The second week, the school had a 2 week “training” on manners and etiquette. The first week (but second week of school), only matayum students came to school- all the primary students had the days off. The teachers taught multiple rotations on various subjects, ranging from hand-washing (which I taught) to singing the anthem of Phitsanulok province to the appropriate length of hair for girls. There were also sessions on “wai”ing, the formal form of greeting in Thailand, and how to be polite when purchasing things in a store. Allegedly since the students are “bad”, this type of training is more important than actual education. The second week of the manners training, the high school students taught the primary students, so yet again, no actual learning occurred. Then last week, the school hosted a district wide English camp (a full post about that to come), so I did not teach my regular classes. It is totally normal on any given day for students to be roaming about the school, hanging out on benches, and generally doing anything but studying. If the teachers don’t feel like teaching, they don’t. It is frustrating for me to see sometimes, because I feel like these kids have so much potential and could be learning so much, but aren’t given the chance.
Thangam
On Mondays and Tuesdays, I go to Chumchon Ban Thangam, or the Thangam community school. It has kindergarten through sixth grade, and a grand total of 76 students. The school is underfunded and only has six teachers, not including the woman who cares for the anuban kids. Unlike Wat Bot school, where just as many teachers live outside of the community as in, a majority of the teachers at Thangam school were born and raised in Thangam. My co-teacher, Pii Orasa, is such a case. She teaches first grade and this year only has four students. However, the school decided to combine the first and second grade classes for English, and thus I have 13 students. Pii Orasa, unlike Pii Som, clearly loves to teach and loves her students. She has a wonderful manner with children and loves to sing songs and be silly in the classroom. She is a bit like a mother figure at the school, and the other teachers frequently wander into the classroom with questions or wailing children. Since Pii Orasa’s students are so young, I also teach the sixth graders with another teacher. That class has eleven students.
Everything is on such a small scale at Thangam it almost feels like an elf school. The fact that it is such a local, community-based school means that everything is very relaxed. The bell rings when teachers decide to push the bell button and the “schedule” is more like a general guideline. The teachers at Wat Bot school are relatively reliable about teaching when they are supposed to. Not true at Thangam, I think I have yet to be there one day when all six teachers were present. Howoever, the students are remarkably adept at taking care of themselves and never get into mischief. Furthermore, teachers at Thangam are constantly using the TV to “teach”. Each classroom does have a TV, as part of a push by the Thai government to integrate technology into the classroom. Most of the teachers will turn it on and either sit in the back of the classroom or wander off. The second grade classroom is right next to the bathroom, and I have literally passed it one time in three weeks when the TV was not turned on. This really bothers me, because no matter informative, having 7 year in a classroom and passively stare at a television is not educational. When I asked the teachers about it, they said it is because they are under-staffed and get tired, which is fair, but I know if I was to calculate the amount of hours the teachers actively spent teaching their students, it would be shockingly low. In some ways, it feels more like a day care than a school.
Usually when I teach the little kids, we take the class outside to the area underneath the mango trees. There are tables for the kids to sit on and work, and it is a quiet, shady space. Although I do not have a chalk board, I love teaching outside and the kids have room to move around, particularly useful when I have them make letter shapes with their bodies or play “letter zoo” (B bear, C cat, D duck, E elephant etc…). Pii Orasa is really good and keeping a schedule and starting class on time. Pii Sompit, however, almost always leaves the students to their own devices or turns on the TV, so I can basically teach whenever. There are usual times I teach, but if here or there I want to push class back thirty minutes or teach an extra half hour that day, it is fine. The sixth graders get so excited when I come to teach, but it is clear they are not used to using their brains at school. Seriously, the concept of critical thinking is new to them at age 11.
For lunch, we eat food hand-cooked at the school by a retired teacher, usually sitting at a picnic table under a big tree, and everyone shares fruit. When we finish eating, a few nearby students get corralled to rinse our dishes, and then the bell gets pushed again. I really enjoy spending time with Pii Orasa, even when I am not teaching with her, and when I have time, help her teach art to the first and second graders. I have already started brainstorming ideas for the school, like implementing a recycling program and holding a teacher training workshop (where I emphasize turning on a TV is not teaching) and all six teachers, and the paw-aw, have already made me feel welcome and valued.
PS-If you want a picture CD, email me your mailing address.
I miss you all!
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