Generally, countdowns mean that you're excited. You're tortured by the numbers, and every morning, you think "when will the double-digits become single-digits?" and "when will the single-digits disappear?" And at certain breaking points, you think "WHY THE HELL DOES TIME MOVE SO DAMN SLOW?"
Lately, I've taken to counting down. Every time something wrong happens at the school, I think "5 more weeks! YOU CAN DEAL WITH IT FOR FIVE MORE WEEKS!" But I've realized that it's only put me in a horrible mindset that allows me to not put forth the energy and effort that I usually would put into a project, that my students deserve. I know that the school isn't the place for me, but it doesn't mean that having an expiration date means I should stop dedicating myself to my students. I love them, and they have no idea just how much.
I see my M4 students once a week. I've got 5 weeks left. I only teach them 5 more times. With the way the school is taking me away from my actual job by making me do other things, I'll teach them even less than that. How quickly time flies after you realize the number of times you'll see your students are dwindling.
I've started packing. I've always hated packing, but this
time I really hate it because I've become so at home here. (It's almost as depressing as the day I finished packing up my apartment back in Iowa.) I have
friends who support me here, and back home, and I have students who wave
and say hello to me whenever we pass each other on the streets. I have
students who try so hard to talk to me in English when it's just so
simple to say "hello" and walk away.
Through all of the hard times at the school, dealing with my personal demons,
the only reason I could pull through without an inkling of
self-destructing thought is because I have these amazing students and
friends. Cutting out anything that brings thoughts of self-destruction eliminates darkness, and having bright, beautiful people in my life, makes me so grateful. There are so many people I want to thank that I feel like I haven't the ability to do these expressions of gratitude any justice.
Countdowns are depressing.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Mid-semester Changes.
Midterms are coming up. I've been busy teaching at the school and outside of the school, grading fashion show presentations & scripts, writing up midterms, preparing for the 'dating situation' presentation for the next unit, and tutoring on top of that -- and that's only for teaching-related stuffs. I've been trying to get things for AFTER my contract is over as well, and try to find some socializing time with the amazing people I call friends and some Rochelle time.
So as you can see, I've been a bit busy. Busy in Rochelle terms equal: "Bonified Underslept Superoverworked Yankee." And I'm a Yankee only because there's really no other word I could think of that begins with a Y besides "Yellow-bellied lizard" and "Yahooligan" and "Yo-yo."
It was posted on my facebook wall the other day, two photos of a teacher's schedule. It looked suspiciously like the one I have now, except some classes are moved around and the M5s (11th grade) have been added onto it. There was no explanation.
Later, I received a facebook message from my coordinator (bosslady) explaining the situation about how parents were complaining about how M5 students were not being taught English by a native English speaker. Every other grade had native English speakers teaching them--why don't their precious M5s?
So the school decided to add on extra classes to my schedule, switch everyone else's class schedules around, to accommodate the demands of these parents.
Don't get me wrong. I understand that they want their kids to learn English from an English speaker. I totally understand. I think it's wonderful that they want that for their students. But what I don't understand is why is the school changing around the entire schedule for more than a couple of classes in the middle of the term when midterms are coming up next week? And why are we starting those classes with a teacher who is probably not as capable of running a class of 11th graders because her teaching styles are much better suited for the younger learners? Why couldn't the school wait until next semester when they are creating the new schedules to make sure that the M5s are being accommodated? And why didn't they ASK ME FIRST?
Had they asked me before making this executive decision about my teaching schedule without me, I would have willingly said yes. No complaints--maybe a bit of a laugh and slight critical eye about changing around all of these schedules when the school year has already started, but other than that, I would be willing to teach the M5s. It's my job, and honestly, I like teaching. But when they completely disregard what I have to say in the matter and say, "Here's your new schedule. You start on Monday" without talking to me OR my coordinator (as we were both left in the dark in a state of shock and slight annoyance), it becomes a problem about how they treat their teachers.
And please allow me to make this clear: if you are the one rearranging MY schedule, please talk to me directly. Don't just make the schedule, put it on my COORDINATOR'S desk without any prior discussion with her, and then say "go." I am not your lackey. I am not here to serve you. I am here to teach students, and I would like to be treated as a human being with concerns and opinions and a choice in the matter.
Also, I find it unfair that they are only accommodating the students whose parents pay them a lot of money, when their concern should be for all of the students. If I'm going to teach M5, you better hope I'm teaching all of them. Not just M5/1, M5/2, and M5/3. It's no wonder all of the lower-level students feel abandoned and can't get excited about learning. It's because the teachers are not excited about teaching them. It's assumed that these students are all dumb because they're in the lower classes, but they're not. In this way, the school and the teachers are denying them the opportunity to be better, to help them rise up. How can they rise without having someone believing in them? At this age (teenagers!), everything is about outside influence. And if they get the feeling that one thinks they are stupid and not even worth the effort, then how can they be blamed for feeling that way and perpetuating the image that these people set upon them?
But, my new M5s, I am glad to have you. Now I have more students to torture with my creative projects and presentations. How fun for me! Moohahahahah. :) And who knows? I might just get one of your classes to help me with English Day on Thursdays! Extra points. I promise. :)
Some clarification to end this post: I am not as upset about the extra classes as I am about the lack of any care that the school has for me as a human being and a teacher. I am not angry--just frustrated because I'd like to think that I'm doing a well enough job at what I'm supposed to be doing to be treated like a teacher. And to my friends who are seemingly more frustrated at the school than I am: don't worry. I'm actually feeling pretty level-headed about it, despite this long post complaining about this aspect of the school at the moment. I'm going to leave the school on a good note, do a good job, and maybe in the future, I can come back and say "hi. remember me?" and everyone will say yes with sincere open arms.
So as you can see, I've been a bit busy. Busy in Rochelle terms equal: "Bonified Underslept Superoverworked Yankee." And I'm a Yankee only because there's really no other word I could think of that begins with a Y besides "Yellow-bellied lizard" and "Yahooligan" and "Yo-yo."
It was posted on my facebook wall the other day, two photos of a teacher's schedule. It looked suspiciously like the one I have now, except some classes are moved around and the M5s (11th grade) have been added onto it. There was no explanation.
Later, I received a facebook message from my coordinator (bosslady) explaining the situation about how parents were complaining about how M5 students were not being taught English by a native English speaker. Every other grade had native English speakers teaching them--why don't their precious M5s?
So the school decided to add on extra classes to my schedule, switch everyone else's class schedules around, to accommodate the demands of these parents.
Don't get me wrong. I understand that they want their kids to learn English from an English speaker. I totally understand. I think it's wonderful that they want that for their students. But what I don't understand is why is the school changing around the entire schedule for more than a couple of classes in the middle of the term when midterms are coming up next week? And why are we starting those classes with a teacher who is probably not as capable of running a class of 11th graders because her teaching styles are much better suited for the younger learners? Why couldn't the school wait until next semester when they are creating the new schedules to make sure that the M5s are being accommodated? And why didn't they ASK ME FIRST?
Had they asked me before making this executive decision about my teaching schedule without me, I would have willingly said yes. No complaints--maybe a bit of a laugh and slight critical eye about changing around all of these schedules when the school year has already started, but other than that, I would be willing to teach the M5s. It's my job, and honestly, I like teaching. But when they completely disregard what I have to say in the matter and say, "Here's your new schedule. You start on Monday" without talking to me OR my coordinator (as we were both left in the dark in a state of shock and slight annoyance), it becomes a problem about how they treat their teachers.
And please allow me to make this clear: if you are the one rearranging MY schedule, please talk to me directly. Don't just make the schedule, put it on my COORDINATOR'S desk without any prior discussion with her, and then say "go." I am not your lackey. I am not here to serve you. I am here to teach students, and I would like to be treated as a human being with concerns and opinions and a choice in the matter.
Also, I find it unfair that they are only accommodating the students whose parents pay them a lot of money, when their concern should be for all of the students. If I'm going to teach M5, you better hope I'm teaching all of them. Not just M5/1, M5/2, and M5/3. It's no wonder all of the lower-level students feel abandoned and can't get excited about learning. It's because the teachers are not excited about teaching them. It's assumed that these students are all dumb because they're in the lower classes, but they're not. In this way, the school and the teachers are denying them the opportunity to be better, to help them rise up. How can they rise without having someone believing in them? At this age (teenagers!), everything is about outside influence. And if they get the feeling that one thinks they are stupid and not even worth the effort, then how can they be blamed for feeling that way and perpetuating the image that these people set upon them?
But, my new M5s, I am glad to have you. Now I have more students to torture with my creative projects and presentations. How fun for me! Moohahahahah. :) And who knows? I might just get one of your classes to help me with English Day on Thursdays! Extra points. I promise. :)
Some clarification to end this post: I am not as upset about the extra classes as I am about the lack of any care that the school has for me as a human being and a teacher. I am not angry--just frustrated because I'd like to think that I'm doing a well enough job at what I'm supposed to be doing to be treated like a teacher. And to my friends who are seemingly more frustrated at the school than I am: don't worry. I'm actually feeling pretty level-headed about it, despite this long post complaining about this aspect of the school at the moment. I'm going to leave the school on a good note, do a good job, and maybe in the future, I can come back and say "hi. remember me?" and everyone will say yes with sincere open arms.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Pros and Cons of Overclocking.
Allow me to explain my absence with one very convenient word: overclocked.
I remember in high school when I wrote fanfiction to alleviate harsh reality, I had just become confident enough in my writing to post them online. I 'met' (as one could meet another through MSN messenger) someone who was interested in my writing. We did several fanfic collaborations, one of which was called "Overclocked" about one of the main characters from our mutually-adored anime who overworked herself until someone had to remind her that it was okay to take a break once in a while.
Looking back, I realize now that it was a typical, ideal romantic story that girls dream about, and boys occasionally fulfill, because I feel that regardless of what I do, what my friends do, we are constantly overclocked with work, ambitions, and dreams. There are those who attempt to get by doing the minimal amount of work to get them by. And then there are those who do everything they can to fulfill their duties, whatever those duties may be.
My grades in school never followed the 'Asian stereotype'. I wasn't an A student, and I struggled through the maths and sciences--which was really my fault because I had applied to math and science academies for both middle and high school (and got in. Don't ask me how.) I excelled in English, but even then, there were Asian classmates who did better, despite my strong grasp of grammar and unfailing love for Shakespeare. My father never pushed me to get straight As because he wasn't an A student either. He always encouraged me to do my best, and as long as I did my best, that was all he asked for. The first time I actually pushed myself to work hard was for Mr. B's English AP class. We were required to memorize and research one poem. The more creative, the better the grade. Well, that, or the shorter the skirt, the better the grade. Being my arrogant self with a rotten-eff-you-society attitude, I was determined to get a good grade without having to compromise my dignity and intelligence with questionable wardrobe choice.
I ended up with the poem with the least amount of research available for my own research. Mr. B had given me the "you poor soul" look when I told him that I had signed up for George Wither's "Shall I, Wasting in Despair". (Even after six years, I remember this poem!) I spent hours in the university library, researching the poem, to create my own interpretation of the poem. I spent many sleepless nights perfecting my presentation and my paper. I had props to go along with the poem. I made every single classmate a flower because Wither's mentioned a friggin' flower in the poem.
Judgment day: I received a 125 out of 120. It was the most invigorating moment of my life, when my hard work, creativity, and determination paid off, and I got what I wanted (and deserved) without having to wear a low top or short skirt during presentation day.
This story may be a bit long-winded, but it was this moment when I became obsessed with doing something to its fullest so that I can prove to myself that I'm not unworthy,that as long as I work hard, I can get somewhere in life. I don't have natural talent and I don't have any luck, but with my father's guidance, with my determination, I became this person I am today, even if it meant that I'm overclocking it. There are pros and cons to every situation, and here is a list of pros and cons to overclocking:
Cons:
- You lose sleep. Constantly.
- You're exhausted. And possibly ill.
- Once you begin to overclock, others will assume that you can handle more, and give you more, which prolongs your overclockage, which begins to wear you down.
- People who don't overclock will tell you to shut the *censored* up when you mention that you have a lot of work. They'll tell you that you deserve it for being a "pushover."
- You stop having 'me' time.
Pros:
- A profound sense of accomplishment.
- People will notice your hard work eventually. It just takes time. And once they do, you feel that much closer to them because they will do everything they can to make sure that you stay.
- When you get a chance to go to bed, you will always experience deep sleep.
- Weariness of the body does not necessarily weariness of the soul. Sometimes overclocking it can feel overbearing, but other times it can be invigorating for the soul and the heart.
- You end up having really good conversations with others who overclock. These will be your long-term companions.
- Working hard will almost always give you what you deserve.
- You will almost never be bored.
- You may be a "pushover", but you're doing something rather than doing nothing. You're helping some way or other, and making your impact on even one person's life.
- You realize who are the ones who love you, who appreciate you, who care about you.
- You learn never to give up when the tough gets going. This stays with you forever.
I overclock too much. I used to have someone to remind me to step back, take a walk, do a little writing, and give my brain a break, even if it's holding hands silently in the dark or having drivel conversation whilst lying in bed. But now I have to grow up, wake up, and realize that the only person who can take care of me now is me. Those who tell me I'm a pushover can continue their lives wandering from here to there without touching lives, but it won't affect the way I see life and the way I see myself. So now I'll be better at balancing my health, but that doesn't mean I'll stop being hardworking. It's in my blood. It's in my personality. I'm not going to deny myself who I am.
One last pro of overclocking: you really start to appreciate what you have and who you have in your life.
Thanks, GS, GA, S, and D, for putting up with my rants, my tears, my darkness and bitterness, and staying by my side during my loneliest and darkest of hours; for the fun times and the hard times and the drunken times; for the encouragement and the love and the support despite my leaving the Midwest for someplace that doesn't always make me happy. We'll all live on the same continent one day, and I'll make it up to all of you by making lots of dumplings.
Thanks, LB (aka: mom), for always knowing what to say to make me feel better, even when I feel like absolute donkeyturd; for giving the best hugs; for caring about me and saying things that make me feel like I'm your daughter; and for inspiring me to keep going, to be a better teacher, to be comfortable in my own skin and open up to my students, and have faith in myself.
Thanks, AS, for putting opportunities into my hands and making me take them; for always being a silent, understanding pillar of support; and for always making me feel welcome in your home when I am in need of time away from myself. And thank you for giving me all these opportunities to teach and spread my wings. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today, and I wouldn't be able to be on the way of getting past my demolished expectations.
And lastly, but most certainly not the least:
Thanks, dad, for never pushing me to get As; for encouraging me to go out and explore the world as long as I'm not doing anything too stupid; for putting up with my teenage years when I was such a horrible and unfilial daughter; for putting me through university; for forcing me to go to the University of Iowa even if it meant that you'd be living in that big house all by yourself; for reminding me that you love me after you found out that I was cutting myself every night; for raising me all alone after mom passed away. I hope that I can grow up to be someone you can be proud of. I love you.
I remember in high school when I wrote fanfiction to alleviate harsh reality, I had just become confident enough in my writing to post them online. I 'met' (as one could meet another through MSN messenger) someone who was interested in my writing. We did several fanfic collaborations, one of which was called "Overclocked" about one of the main characters from our mutually-adored anime who overworked herself until someone had to remind her that it was okay to take a break once in a while.
Looking back, I realize now that it was a typical, ideal romantic story that girls dream about, and boys occasionally fulfill, because I feel that regardless of what I do, what my friends do, we are constantly overclocked with work, ambitions, and dreams. There are those who attempt to get by doing the minimal amount of work to get them by. And then there are those who do everything they can to fulfill their duties, whatever those duties may be.
My grades in school never followed the 'Asian stereotype'. I wasn't an A student, and I struggled through the maths and sciences--which was really my fault because I had applied to math and science academies for both middle and high school (and got in. Don't ask me how.) I excelled in English, but even then, there were Asian classmates who did better, despite my strong grasp of grammar and unfailing love for Shakespeare. My father never pushed me to get straight As because he wasn't an A student either. He always encouraged me to do my best, and as long as I did my best, that was all he asked for. The first time I actually pushed myself to work hard was for Mr. B's English AP class. We were required to memorize and research one poem. The more creative, the better the grade. Well, that, or the shorter the skirt, the better the grade. Being my arrogant self with a rotten-eff-you-society attitude, I was determined to get a good grade without having to compromise my dignity and intelligence with questionable wardrobe choice.
I ended up with the poem with the least amount of research available for my own research. Mr. B had given me the "you poor soul" look when I told him that I had signed up for George Wither's "Shall I, Wasting in Despair". (Even after six years, I remember this poem!) I spent hours in the university library, researching the poem, to create my own interpretation of the poem. I spent many sleepless nights perfecting my presentation and my paper. I had props to go along with the poem. I made every single classmate a flower because Wither's mentioned a friggin' flower in the poem.
Judgment day: I received a 125 out of 120. It was the most invigorating moment of my life, when my hard work, creativity, and determination paid off, and I got what I wanted (and deserved) without having to wear a low top or short skirt during presentation day.
This story may be a bit long-winded, but it was this moment when I became obsessed with doing something to its fullest so that I can prove to myself that I'm not unworthy,that as long as I work hard, I can get somewhere in life. I don't have natural talent and I don't have any luck, but with my father's guidance, with my determination, I became this person I am today, even if it meant that I'm overclocking it. There are pros and cons to every situation, and here is a list of pros and cons to overclocking:
Cons:
- You lose sleep. Constantly.
- You're exhausted. And possibly ill.
- Once you begin to overclock, others will assume that you can handle more, and give you more, which prolongs your overclockage, which begins to wear you down.
- People who don't overclock will tell you to shut the *censored* up when you mention that you have a lot of work. They'll tell you that you deserve it for being a "pushover."
- You stop having 'me' time.
Pros:
- A profound sense of accomplishment.
- People will notice your hard work eventually. It just takes time. And once they do, you feel that much closer to them because they will do everything they can to make sure that you stay.
- When you get a chance to go to bed, you will always experience deep sleep.
- Weariness of the body does not necessarily weariness of the soul. Sometimes overclocking it can feel overbearing, but other times it can be invigorating for the soul and the heart.
- You end up having really good conversations with others who overclock. These will be your long-term companions.
- Working hard will almost always give you what you deserve.
- You will almost never be bored.
- You may be a "pushover", but you're doing something rather than doing nothing. You're helping some way or other, and making your impact on even one person's life.
- You realize who are the ones who love you, who appreciate you, who care about you.
- You learn never to give up when the tough gets going. This stays with you forever.
I overclock too much. I used to have someone to remind me to step back, take a walk, do a little writing, and give my brain a break, even if it's holding hands silently in the dark or having drivel conversation whilst lying in bed. But now I have to grow up, wake up, and realize that the only person who can take care of me now is me. Those who tell me I'm a pushover can continue their lives wandering from here to there without touching lives, but it won't affect the way I see life and the way I see myself. So now I'll be better at balancing my health, but that doesn't mean I'll stop being hardworking. It's in my blood. It's in my personality. I'm not going to deny myself who I am.
One last pro of overclocking: you really start to appreciate what you have and who you have in your life.
Thanks, GS, GA, S, and D, for putting up with my rants, my tears, my darkness and bitterness, and staying by my side during my loneliest and darkest of hours; for the fun times and the hard times and the drunken times; for the encouragement and the love and the support despite my leaving the Midwest for someplace that doesn't always make me happy. We'll all live on the same continent one day, and I'll make it up to all of you by making lots of dumplings.
Thanks, LB (aka: mom), for always knowing what to say to make me feel better, even when I feel like absolute donkeyturd; for giving the best hugs; for caring about me and saying things that make me feel like I'm your daughter; and for inspiring me to keep going, to be a better teacher, to be comfortable in my own skin and open up to my students, and have faith in myself.
Thanks, AS, for putting opportunities into my hands and making me take them; for always being a silent, understanding pillar of support; and for always making me feel welcome in your home when I am in need of time away from myself. And thank you for giving me all these opportunities to teach and spread my wings. Without you, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today, and I wouldn't be able to be on the way of getting past my demolished expectations.
And lastly, but most certainly not the least:
Thanks, dad, for never pushing me to get As; for encouraging me to go out and explore the world as long as I'm not doing anything too stupid; for putting up with my teenage years when I was such a horrible and unfilial daughter; for putting me through university; for forcing me to go to the University of Iowa even if it meant that you'd be living in that big house all by yourself; for reminding me that you love me after you found out that I was cutting myself every night; for raising me all alone after mom passed away. I hope that I can grow up to be someone you can be proud of. I love you.
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Purpose.
Life isn't a well-drawn-out plan. It's actually more like a story that a 6th grader would write in attempt to lose herself in what she believes are complications and drama that spices up a romance and demonstrates that true love always conquer all. There are always unexpected plot twists, unanticipated changes in the script, convenient cop-outs because of the annoying writer's block. And when you look back at what happened, you wonder where you went wrong, and why didn't you see it earlier, and you knew better, what the heck were you thinking?
Thailand became one of those places, where the Unexpected rolls around in the hay with Expectation, and you're left with a mess in your bedroom, your head, your heart, and the story ends in a bitter, unfinished, unsatisfying farewell.
But it's when you're in these situations where you learn the most about yourself, or at least learn that crying helps alleviate some of the frustration, the confusion, the loneliness, and that it's okay to cry. It is NOT okay to wish that you had a bottle of tequila to drink alone in your room watching zombie movies in an attempt to bury yourself in a fantasy world to escape reality. It is NOT okay to think that things would be so much easier if you could just off yourself because you have a mental problem that allows you to think that your existence is all for naught, so you're just better off dead. But it's okay to cry, to call someone close to cry and mutter unintelligible nonsense to, to cry when you are finally in the arms of the one or two or three people you know protects and loves and cares about you.
My first week back in Thailand was this roller coaster, but I think that it's given me back my sense of self-respect. I never thought that being a teacher was denying myself a rich future. I love the moment my students' eyes light up when they understand what I've been teaching them; I love the moment I walk into a new classroom with new students and they stare at me in wonder, wondering what I'm teaching and what they'll learn; I love the moment the first day of class ends, and my new students say good-bye, grins decorating their faces as they bounce out of the classroom; and I love the moment my students realize that they can practice English with me any time they'd like because they trust me. Money can't buy me these experiences, these connections I've made with these kids who have no idea how many times they've saved me from feeling worthless and stupid and ugly and lonely.
My students have made me realize just how much I love teaching. They're teenagers, which means they have mood swings; they have elevated levels of hormones dancing around the classroom; they have a short attention span in their studies; they have broken hearts and exciting, new loves; they have books they're dying to finish (so they try to finish it in class); they have fights with friends; they have family problems, boy problems, girl problems; but they are enthusiastic (though not necessarily in class), and they love to play games just as long as it doesn't result in homework. So many times have I thought that I couldn't handle it anymore, that I was alone, that I can't trust myself to do anything right, and all those times, teaching them has uplifted me, has made me smile when I thought I couldn't possibly smile again.
We are still in the pre-semester courses right now. I've met my M1/2 students, and they are the cutest, most enthusiastic 7th graders on the face of the planet. I've seen half of my M2/2 students at their extra language school where they are writing their own songs and will be recording them next week (these songs will also be on VEVO and their local radio station!) And next week, I will see my M4/1, M4/2, and M4/3 students for their pre-semester English course.
We've got a 3-day English camp for the district's teachers from May 9-11. Our two new OEG teachers will be arriving in Tak May 11th. An all-farang meeting is May 14th. School starts May 16th. English Day is every Thursday, and is my responsibility to plan them all. M4 will have an English Camp May 19-20. And I will start teaching government officials again sometime within mid-May. So I've just got to get my emotions together, kill off anything that makes me sad, and continue the last 4 months in Thailand in gusto.
Meanwhile, I will continue to finish downloading my zombie movies, and maybe play a little Resident Evil 4 to kill off my inner-demons the rest of the summer vacation.
My purpose in life is to complete my duties and responsibilities of whatever role I'm in. Emotions should not play any part in that, so I refuse to be anything but strong.
Thailand became one of those places, where the Unexpected rolls around in the hay with Expectation, and you're left with a mess in your bedroom, your head, your heart, and the story ends in a bitter, unfinished, unsatisfying farewell.
But it's when you're in these situations where you learn the most about yourself, or at least learn that crying helps alleviate some of the frustration, the confusion, the loneliness, and that it's okay to cry. It is NOT okay to wish that you had a bottle of tequila to drink alone in your room watching zombie movies in an attempt to bury yourself in a fantasy world to escape reality. It is NOT okay to think that things would be so much easier if you could just off yourself because you have a mental problem that allows you to think that your existence is all for naught, so you're just better off dead. But it's okay to cry, to call someone close to cry and mutter unintelligible nonsense to, to cry when you are finally in the arms of the one or two or three people you know protects and loves and cares about you.
My first week back in Thailand was this roller coaster, but I think that it's given me back my sense of self-respect. I never thought that being a teacher was denying myself a rich future. I love the moment my students' eyes light up when they understand what I've been teaching them; I love the moment I walk into a new classroom with new students and they stare at me in wonder, wondering what I'm teaching and what they'll learn; I love the moment the first day of class ends, and my new students say good-bye, grins decorating their faces as they bounce out of the classroom; and I love the moment my students realize that they can practice English with me any time they'd like because they trust me. Money can't buy me these experiences, these connections I've made with these kids who have no idea how many times they've saved me from feeling worthless and stupid and ugly and lonely.
My students have made me realize just how much I love teaching. They're teenagers, which means they have mood swings; they have elevated levels of hormones dancing around the classroom; they have a short attention span in their studies; they have broken hearts and exciting, new loves; they have books they're dying to finish (so they try to finish it in class); they have fights with friends; they have family problems, boy problems, girl problems; but they are enthusiastic (though not necessarily in class), and they love to play games just as long as it doesn't result in homework. So many times have I thought that I couldn't handle it anymore, that I was alone, that I can't trust myself to do anything right, and all those times, teaching them has uplifted me, has made me smile when I thought I couldn't possibly smile again.
We are still in the pre-semester courses right now. I've met my M1/2 students, and they are the cutest, most enthusiastic 7th graders on the face of the planet. I've seen half of my M2/2 students at their extra language school where they are writing their own songs and will be recording them next week (these songs will also be on VEVO and their local radio station!) And next week, I will see my M4/1, M4/2, and M4/3 students for their pre-semester English course.
We've got a 3-day English camp for the district's teachers from May 9-11. Our two new OEG teachers will be arriving in Tak May 11th. An all-farang meeting is May 14th. School starts May 16th. English Day is every Thursday, and is my responsibility to plan them all. M4 will have an English Camp May 19-20. And I will start teaching government officials again sometime within mid-May. So I've just got to get my emotions together, kill off anything that makes me sad, and continue the last 4 months in Thailand in gusto.
Meanwhile, I will continue to finish downloading my zombie movies, and maybe play a little Resident Evil 4 to kill off my inner-demons the rest of the summer vacation.
My purpose in life is to complete my duties and responsibilities of whatever role I'm in. Emotions should not play any part in that, so I refuse to be anything but strong.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Back in Tak.
And thus, I have left paradise and returned to Hell. Literally. And when I say literally, I mean the actual temperature in Tak feels like I'm boiling in the Land of the Punished. 40-45 degrees Celsius every day. That's about 104-113 degrees Fahrenheit every day. I now understand how lobsters feel. At least I'm not in boiling hot water. Yet.
I'm sure there are things to write about (like my trips in Taiwan!), but I am currently overburdened with teaching stuff, so I suppose that's a post for another day.
Friday, March 30, 2012
Family Matters.
My biggest concern regarding being with my family for a month was that I had changed too much in Thailand and they wouldn't recognize or like me anymore--and then the whole month would be unbearable. I can't exactly explain why I felt this way, but perhaps it had a lot to do with how I handle situations in real life, and how I actually react when talking to my family and friends.
For example, I taught M3 (9th grade) and they were graduating from lower Mattayom to be in the higher Mattayom class. I was not informed by the school of their graduation ceremony until a student on facebook asked me if I was going to be there to watch her give a speech. I would like to think I handled it maturely when I entered the English department and asked them whether or not it was true, what time was the ceremony, and what should I wear? They gave me the answers I needed, and I stopped visiting the English department the rest of the week except to fill up my water bottle. I also happened to find out that day that my M6 class graduated the day before, without anyone having told me anything about it. To which I mentally gave them all the middle finger.)
However, as I relayed this story to my family who so innocently asked "How are you doing at the school? Are things getting better?", my anger got to the point where I burst out in tears and asked them whether or not I was wasting my time at a school who really doesn't see me as a teacher because they didn't have the decency to tell me that my own students were having a graduation ceremony. (My tears were angry tears, by the way, so naturally, I sounded hysterical and crazy over Skype.) And this then led to many other complaints which I have been harboring since our last conversation about two weeks ago.
Regardless, I was aware of the fact that whenever I talked about the school or about Thailand, I was bitter, angry, frustrated, and not at all pleasant to talk with. I was afraid that it had become a strengthening characteristic of mine to be bitter, angry, frustrated, and unpleasant, and that this change would, naturally, affect the way that I am around my family. I do see that as a characteristic, in all honesty, the past week I've been with them, with dark moods, anger management issues regarding a Toshiba order and an incompetent sales policy, and being almost unable to prevent myself from using words that would surely lead to mouth-washing with soap and a stern talking-to. I did come to realize, though, that while dark moods tend to swoop in unannounced and unwelcomed, my family seems to take it into stride and sometimes slap me in the face (metaphorically) with a dose of reality by reminding me that I've still got three weeks left in paradise, and if I don't enjoy it now, I'm stuck in Thailand for another five months with no hope. (Okay, so they don't put it that way, but I'm good at reading between the lines!)
It seems, though, as I was gone for a while, my family have been experiencing their own problems, each in the privacy of their own corners of the world, and that their problems are just as daunting as my own. Futures are always uncertain; hearts are always broken, taken advantage of, ripped off and pulled apart; and bitterness is covered with a face of indifference or simple disappearance. But the one thing I know that I can count on is my family. Because they know me. They know me inside and out, and they know that I need to stop thinking about work and need to sort out what I want to do in the future. They know that I'm a bitter, bitter person and that it's hard to get me out of those ruts, but they also know that I'm easily pleased with nature and that I love good vegetarian food and a good walk around the neighborhood. (They also know my Taiwan sweet tooth and my love for complex carbohydrates.) They don't know about my love life or my struggle with my Chinese-American identity. They don't know that I harbor intense hatred for only one person and that I intend to find him. And they don't know about my struggles with writing or my passion for it. But they know me. And out of all of the people I've had the fortune (and misfortune) of meeting, very few know how to handle me.
Without family, where on earth would I be?
The grass always seem greener on the other side of the fence. However, I think the grass is always greener on the side of the fence that my family's on. Even though there are a couple spots that's a bit yellow and had obviously been urinated on, it's still greener and cleaner and always feels like home.
For example, I taught M3 (9th grade) and they were graduating from lower Mattayom to be in the higher Mattayom class. I was not informed by the school of their graduation ceremony until a student on facebook asked me if I was going to be there to watch her give a speech. I would like to think I handled it maturely when I entered the English department and asked them whether or not it was true, what time was the ceremony, and what should I wear? They gave me the answers I needed, and I stopped visiting the English department the rest of the week except to fill up my water bottle. I also happened to find out that day that my M6 class graduated the day before, without anyone having told me anything about it. To which I mentally gave them all the middle finger.)
However, as I relayed this story to my family who so innocently asked "How are you doing at the school? Are things getting better?", my anger got to the point where I burst out in tears and asked them whether or not I was wasting my time at a school who really doesn't see me as a teacher because they didn't have the decency to tell me that my own students were having a graduation ceremony. (My tears were angry tears, by the way, so naturally, I sounded hysterical and crazy over Skype.) And this then led to many other complaints which I have been harboring since our last conversation about two weeks ago.
Regardless, I was aware of the fact that whenever I talked about the school or about Thailand, I was bitter, angry, frustrated, and not at all pleasant to talk with. I was afraid that it had become a strengthening characteristic of mine to be bitter, angry, frustrated, and unpleasant, and that this change would, naturally, affect the way that I am around my family. I do see that as a characteristic, in all honesty, the past week I've been with them, with dark moods, anger management issues regarding a Toshiba order and an incompetent sales policy, and being almost unable to prevent myself from using words that would surely lead to mouth-washing with soap and a stern talking-to. I did come to realize, though, that while dark moods tend to swoop in unannounced and unwelcomed, my family seems to take it into stride and sometimes slap me in the face (metaphorically) with a dose of reality by reminding me that I've still got three weeks left in paradise, and if I don't enjoy it now, I'm stuck in Thailand for another five months with no hope. (Okay, so they don't put it that way, but I'm good at reading between the lines!)
It seems, though, as I was gone for a while, my family have been experiencing their own problems, each in the privacy of their own corners of the world, and that their problems are just as daunting as my own. Futures are always uncertain; hearts are always broken, taken advantage of, ripped off and pulled apart; and bitterness is covered with a face of indifference or simple disappearance. But the one thing I know that I can count on is my family. Because they know me. They know me inside and out, and they know that I need to stop thinking about work and need to sort out what I want to do in the future. They know that I'm a bitter, bitter person and that it's hard to get me out of those ruts, but they also know that I'm easily pleased with nature and that I love good vegetarian food and a good walk around the neighborhood. (They also know my Taiwan sweet tooth and my love for complex carbohydrates.) They don't know about my love life or my struggle with my Chinese-American identity. They don't know that I harbor intense hatred for only one person and that I intend to find him. And they don't know about my struggles with writing or my passion for it. But they know me. And out of all of the people I've had the fortune (and misfortune) of meeting, very few know how to handle me.
Without family, where on earth would I be?
The grass always seem greener on the other side of the fence. However, I think the grass is always greener on the side of the fence that my family's on. Even though there are a couple spots that's a bit yellow and had obviously been urinated on, it's still greener and cleaner and always feels like home.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
In a Rut.
Counting down to the day I leave for Taiwan to see my family is possibly the worst idea--it's like torturing yourself, like stabbing thick, poisonous Porcupine needles into your arm and asking yourself why it hurts and why won't the pain and bleeding go away?
I enjoy working. Not to the point of grey hair (which I'm sure I have by now), but working so that I keep my idle mind occupied, and not have to live in my head all of the time (which is what I did in middle school, and no wonder I went bat**** crazy). This past month, my amount of hours teaching were decreased, due to "summer vacation". It's not the classic "summer vacation" as we know in the Western Hemisphere, where the teachers and the students get off. Teachers are still required to sign-in every morning, and a lot of students are still taking classes. And the students who aren't taking classes hang around the school like cool kids anyway. It's like summer school, except all teachers have to sign-in in the morning. But I'm not teaching, so, again, my idle brain finds a way to occupy itself, mostly at my sanity's expense.
When my sanity is at the cusp between 'somewhat normal' and 'LOOK OUT!', everything in my life unravels itself out of its Zen package and throws rotten pie in my face, followed by a couple of steak knives. (Did I mention when my life unravels itself, it looks like Chuckie?) I broke my toilet. (Don't ask how. I don't know.) I broke my toilet cover in an attempt to fix said toilet. My self-esteem is affected by having lost the friends that I've connected with working at TPS the past semester because they've found better things in their horizon. (Good-bye, N, L, NA, PP, JA--I know you won't miss TPS at all.) I'm extremely introverted to begin with, and now I'm lonely. Devastatingly lonely, and doubts cloud my head, my judgment, and all of a sudden, things that are unrelated to anything at all permeates my unraveling sanity, and all of a sudden, I ask questions like "Why doesn't anyone like me?" or "I'm such a joke of a teacher--my students haven't learned anything this past semester" or "Why can't I be beautiful?" or "Oh my god, WHY DON'T BOYS EVER LIKE ME?!?!??!?!?!?!?!"
A complete nutjob. Write that down, Doctor. There's more where that came from, but I don't think you have enough time in the world to help me fix my issues. Is this session over yet?
So I've devised a way to combat my insecurities with a book that I bought in middle school to help me combat my depression and suicidal tendencies. It's called "A Thousand Paths to Comfort" by David Baird. Strangely enough, in middle school, I reveled in my depression, my grandfather's Swiss Army Knife, and loud, angry "Devil" music, so I never read it. Through middle school, high school, college, pre-moving-to-Thailand, I couldn't bear myself to throw it away because I knew I was going to need it someday. And thank Almighty, my first real use of this book...12 years later.
"There is character in resolve."
I've been making poor decisions lately, in who I spend time with, how I spend time with them, and what I'm like when I'm with them. I've always been one of the 'boys', but it depends on who my group of boys are. Unfortunately, my group of 'boys' back home are immensely different from the group of 'boys' here. And so I've resolved to return myself to who I was before I came to Thailand (the self that I quite liked a lot). It's difficult, but I'll take it step by step (cue Whitney Houston song).
"It is often the case that the people who argue the most are the people who know the least."
I've had this problem quite frequently after coming to Thailand. Meeting people who argue with you all the time. Because of this, I've stopped voicing my opinions, because I've realized that my opinions are usually always different and I'll get argued into the ground for no reason, or that they just don't matter anymore. When I voiced this change to my friends, I imagined them all having that meme face that's been floating around the interwebz recently ("Y U CHANGE SO MUCH?!"), but I've found that it's easier to stay out of that verbal mess than jumping smack dab into the middle of it.
"Dare and endure--only then will things ease and you will arrive at comfort."
My translation: you gotta suffer in your early 20s before you can establish yourself for your 30s, 40s, and if you're lucky, past your 50s. So I know I'm going to be continuously fighting my way out of my ruts (and I know there are more coming), but with the friends that have been reaching out to me from across the seas, with my handy little Comfort Book, and a lot of writing, I'll be okay.
For now, I'll work my way out of this current rut, and resolve myself to going back to the Rochelle that I liked a lot, who was confident in herself, who had shining goals on the horizon, who never gives up, and who gives boys a good run for their money, and end up with a lot more cash than she expected.
Now, how's that for sanity?
I enjoy working. Not to the point of grey hair (which I'm sure I have by now), but working so that I keep my idle mind occupied, and not have to live in my head all of the time (which is what I did in middle school, and no wonder I went bat**** crazy). This past month, my amount of hours teaching were decreased, due to "summer vacation". It's not the classic "summer vacation" as we know in the Western Hemisphere, where the teachers and the students get off. Teachers are still required to sign-in every morning, and a lot of students are still taking classes. And the students who aren't taking classes hang around the school like cool kids anyway. It's like summer school, except all teachers have to sign-in in the morning. But I'm not teaching, so, again, my idle brain finds a way to occupy itself, mostly at my sanity's expense.
When my sanity is at the cusp between 'somewhat normal' and 'LOOK OUT!', everything in my life unravels itself out of its Zen package and throws rotten pie in my face, followed by a couple of steak knives. (Did I mention when my life unravels itself, it looks like Chuckie?) I broke my toilet. (Don't ask how. I don't know.) I broke my toilet cover in an attempt to fix said toilet. My self-esteem is affected by having lost the friends that I've connected with working at TPS the past semester because they've found better things in their horizon. (Good-bye, N, L, NA, PP, JA--I know you won't miss TPS at all.) I'm extremely introverted to begin with, and now I'm lonely. Devastatingly lonely, and doubts cloud my head, my judgment, and all of a sudden, things that are unrelated to anything at all permeates my unraveling sanity, and all of a sudden, I ask questions like "Why doesn't anyone like me?" or "I'm such a joke of a teacher--my students haven't learned anything this past semester" or "Why can't I be beautiful?" or "Oh my god, WHY DON'T BOYS EVER LIKE ME?!?!??!?!?!?!?!"
A complete nutjob. Write that down, Doctor. There's more where that came from, but I don't think you have enough time in the world to help me fix my issues. Is this session over yet?
So I've devised a way to combat my insecurities with a book that I bought in middle school to help me combat my depression and suicidal tendencies. It's called "A Thousand Paths to Comfort" by David Baird. Strangely enough, in middle school, I reveled in my depression, my grandfather's Swiss Army Knife, and loud, angry "Devil" music, so I never read it. Through middle school, high school, college, pre-moving-to-Thailand, I couldn't bear myself to throw it away because I knew I was going to need it someday. And thank Almighty, my first real use of this book...12 years later.
"There is character in resolve."
I've been making poor decisions lately, in who I spend time with, how I spend time with them, and what I'm like when I'm with them. I've always been one of the 'boys', but it depends on who my group of boys are. Unfortunately, my group of 'boys' back home are immensely different from the group of 'boys' here. And so I've resolved to return myself to who I was before I came to Thailand (the self that I quite liked a lot). It's difficult, but I'll take it step by step (cue Whitney Houston song).
"It is often the case that the people who argue the most are the people who know the least."
I've had this problem quite frequently after coming to Thailand. Meeting people who argue with you all the time. Because of this, I've stopped voicing my opinions, because I've realized that my opinions are usually always different and I'll get argued into the ground for no reason, or that they just don't matter anymore. When I voiced this change to my friends, I imagined them all having that meme face that's been floating around the interwebz recently ("Y U CHANGE SO MUCH?!"), but I've found that it's easier to stay out of that verbal mess than jumping smack dab into the middle of it.
"Dare and endure--only then will things ease and you will arrive at comfort."
My translation: you gotta suffer in your early 20s before you can establish yourself for your 30s, 40s, and if you're lucky, past your 50s. So I know I'm going to be continuously fighting my way out of my ruts (and I know there are more coming), but with the friends that have been reaching out to me from across the seas, with my handy little Comfort Book, and a lot of writing, I'll be okay.
For now, I'll work my way out of this current rut, and resolve myself to going back to the Rochelle that I liked a lot, who was confident in herself, who had shining goals on the horizon, who never gives up, and who gives boys a good run for their money, and end up with a lot more cash than she expected.
Now, how's that for sanity?
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
14 Things To Keep In Mind Teaching in Thailand
After one semester of crying, long Skype-rants, I decided to look back and make a list of things that I've learned, methods that have worked for me. I don't practice these all of the time, but things have gone smoothly when I have.
1. Your experience may be different from others' experiences.
You'll hear people say things about uh-mazing Thailand is. How the people are all so uh-mazing and wonderful. That's not necessarily true. Just as it's not true that all Americans are white, or all Americans are arrogant and snooty. Each school is different; each person's personality is different; and each person's students are different. I have mixed feelings about my school. There are people in the program who are in love with their schools and their students. It's different. It's all in your perspective and your personality and your circumstance.
2. Keep an open mind.
Going off of the previous note, it pays to have an open mind. My experience with Thai administration is that they are ridiculously unorganized. They will know something 2 months in advance, and they won't tell you about until the day before English Day, and tell you "oh, uhm, you need to plan for English Day during morning announcements tomorrow." (True story.) Or maybe you spent a whole month planning an English Camp by yourself with the instructions "up to you!" and then two days before the camp, they tell you that you have to do it their way. (Another true story. The picture above is from that very English Camp.) Don't freak out. Take in a deep breath, maybe scream into a pillow or nearby bag, and then promptly do your best to pull something together. If it's not the best you could have done, it's okay. Just do your best.
3. Be prepared to be unprepared.
Corporal punishment is common within the school systems. It's hard for Asians to wane off of hundreds of years of using physical punishment to keep children in line. (Please refrain from making comments regarding this method--Western and Eastern thoughts are different, and no matter how much you debate this matter to death, you won't come to a conclusion.) You will be caught unprepared when you see a teacher next door pull your student out of your classroom and start banging said student's head against the wall. (Also a true story) And you'll be caught in a state of shock and might be unable to do anything. You can't do anything. And with cultural differences, it's better not to do anything to the teacher. But it means a whole lot to the student if you show them that you care. Don't pull them outside to talk (they might not understand what you're trying to say--usually the higher level students won't have that happen to them), but maybe let them know that you care by asking them if it hurts, by patting them on the shoulder, by smiling at them, or handing them a tissue. Actions speak louder than words.
4. Be patient. Be patient. Be patient.
Your students won't be the best. Actually, they might really suck at English. If you say 'good morning' to them, they might not say anything because they can't. It's not their fault. They're not stupid. Be patient. Say the same thing to them every morning when you see them. They're just scared. Those who are bad at English might even avoid eye contact--let them know that it's okay not to be good at English. Be patient and explain to them in a way that they might be able to understand (even if it means you need to practice using Tinglish -- Thai + English!). That takes time. Once they know that you don't hate them for not knowing English or think that they're stupid, they'll do their best to practice with you because they know you aren't judging them. When you have lower-level students calling out to you and waving hi to you from the third-floor balcony, you know that they're not scared of you, and it's a pretty darn good feeling.
5. Mistakes are okay. Changing them for next time is even better.
I made a lot of mistakes this semester. I was too lenient at the beginning. I didn't set any ground rules down with my students. But I didn't have experience. I learned a lot this semester--I learned what my kids are capable of. I learned all of their sneaky copying homework methods. I learned ways to make sure that they don't cheat, that they're proving that they're learning something, that they're retaining some sort of knowledge at the end of your unit. This also includes the fact that there are a lot of administration 'stuff' that your administration will not tell you ahead of time. Like paperwork needed to be done. Like signing in a little blue book at the end of each class period that each class has to prove that you taught them. Like how you're supposed to take attendance every day (and they won't tell you this until the end of the semester--sadly, true story). They won't tell you anything. You have to figure it out yourself. And once you know, you can use that knowledge in the future, and perhaps inform your (future) fellow foreign teachers.
6. Be creative.
Kids get bored of worksheets with no pictures. Of just answering questions. Of worksheets without pictures. And worksheets enable kids to cheat and copy off of each other like no other. While most teachers don't care, if you care about cheating, find creative ways to make sure that they don't do that. Or make creative worksheets. Make creative threats. Play games. Make class time fun for the kids--that's the easiest to hold their attention, and maybe you'll peak their creativity too.
7. Have fun.
Have fun with your students, but have fun being a teacher. Figure out what works for your group of students (and each group is different!) Some of my classes love it when I joke and act silly in class. Others like it when I just teach them new vocabulary. Some like it when I play games in class; others prefer worksheets. Mix it up. If they don't like games? I play games with them as often as I can. I want them to become more comfortable with themselves and being silly. Make it into a competition to get their bloodstreams boiling. You naturally start having fun when your students are having fun, and then the job doesn't seem too tedious at the end of the day!
8. Be honest, but respectful.
Thailand is traditional in terms of seniority. It's painful, yes, but try to respect the system. Once you've established that you aren't threatening their authority, they're usually more willing to listen to your requests and suggestions. Find various ways to express to the Thai teachers your discontent. They'll appreciate your efforts, and will usually reward you for them!
9. Accept, but you do not have to agree.
You're not in your territory. You're on another country's grounds with their set of laws, their customs and culture, and their way of doing things. Even if it seems like it's inefficient, stupid, and 'why on earth would you do that?', accept it, let it go. You don't have to agree with their methods, but know that just because you're one of the few foreign teachers in their school, it doesn't mean that your word is better than theirs just because you came from America. Choose your battles!
10. Don't take yourself too seriously.
There's no room for that when you stand in front of a room of 50+ kids, most of whom are not paying any attention to you. They're either the rowdy boys in the back who like to chit-chat about this-and-that, or they're rowdy girls who like to use the words "Teacha bootiful!" in attempts to get good grades whilst they do homework for other classes or play on their phones or do their makeup in class (that one doesn't work on me, unfortunately for them), or they're sitting right smack dab in the crowd doing work for another class, and you can't tap them on the head with your newspaper or stand by them to creep them out. Just like #7, have fun with them. That means, make things interesting, spice things up. Even if it means making funny faces at the kids who aren't paying attention (that one gets my students cracking up until their sides split). They get a little embarrassed, and you still keep the rest of the students' eyes on you. But if they don't, don't worry about it too much. As many wise friends have advised me: you can't teach every student in your classes, so teach the ones who want to learn.
11. Be responsible.
You're a teacher. And an United States Ambassador. That doesn't mean you can't go out and party once in a while, but make sure that you do what is expected. You are responsible for your own actions, and that doesn't change just because you're in Thailand. Students will, inevitably, look up to you, so be a good role model. (This may include watching using curse words in front of students. I've no doubt my students know all of the bad words, but I hope that they never catch me using it.)
12. Don't worry about not knowing their names/nicknames. Remember the ones that you connect with, that do well in class, that really stand out in class.
And maybe know the names of the bad kids too. I never really bothered with that though. All I really do with the bad kids is bop them on the head with paper whenever I catch them talking when I'm talking. They make a game out of it, which is entertaining. I had 450 9th graders. I couldn't possibly remember all of their names and what classes they were in. But they're used to that, as Thai teachers refer to them by number only. Try to learn the names, but don't worry too much about knowing everyone's. They won't be offended.
13. Don't be afraid to be a little mean. They'll forgive you. Eventually.
I'm mean to my lower level classes. It was the only way that I could get them to sit in their seats and take out their notebooks and try to attempt to copy the words off of the board. But somehow at the end of the semester, most of them know to take out their notebooks, to get back to their seats, and to pretend that they're listening. They've never not been threatened by a bamboo stick before, so if you use different tactics to get their attention, they'll notice you eventually. (When you bop kids on the head with a roll of paper, make sure you don't have a malicious look on your face or hit them hard. Just enough pressure to let them know that you know what they're up to! The attitude is everything.)
14. Do what's best for the kids. Not for the school.
This kind of goes against what I was saying earlier about accepting the school's policies, but what I mean by this is: if your co-teacher tells you not to play games with them in class, disregard and do it anyway. You know that you have to get through all of the material by the end of the semester. That's fine. But you know that it's boring. They won't enjoy learning. And if your teacher stops you in the middle of the game? Ask him/her to please not to be rude and speak to you after the class is finished. I don't see what is wrong with playing a few games as long as the kids learn the materials they're supposed to learn. This is a battle that I choose to fight because I was hired on the account that I took drama classes at university (seriously. No lie. It was between me and some Polish girl, but the director chose me because I had background in drama), so that means that they're expecting me to bring that into my classroom. Which is exactly what they're going to get. No tiny little teacher is going to tell me not to do my job.
This is only the first semester. I've got another to go. Hopefully by the end of THAT semester, I'll have more to add to this list (that means I'm still learning!) For now, these are only a few things I've learned. Perhaps one day this blog entry will help someone. :) Until then, I'll keep working hard to being a better teacher!
Monday, January 16, 2012
English Camp.
Rant ahead. Read at your own discretion.
I remember the moment I told my father that I wanted to be a writer. A full-on, professional writer that would have my readers thinking and feeling through good, soulful writing. And I remember the moment my father sighed and told me that I would never make it as a writer. I remember feeling like--pardon my cursing--shit, and arguing with my father the entire night until he told me that it was just safer to have a back-up.
Teaching is difficult. It's even more difficult when your students have shown no understanding, no comprehension, no hint of retaining anything you've taught, regardless of how long you've taught it, how often you review the materials, how you've tried to hammer one word into their heads by reviewing for the midterm, giving them the answer to the midterm, putting the question on the midterm, reviewing the answers after they've taken the midterm, and using it on a daily basis.
The English Camp at Doi Musoe (between Muang Tak and Mae Sot) was an eye-opener for me. While others relatively enjoyed their time there, I found myself grappling with my place at this school--why am I here when I could be at home with friends? What is the reason that I'm here if I won't see my M3 classes this entire next week--do you know how many classes have been canceled already? What can I do in the amount of time that I'm here in Thailand? I can't help my kids if the school won't let them go to class. I can't help my kids if they don't give me the reign to really plan my own lesson plans. I can't help my kids if I'm only here a year and they don't want to learn English. If they're going to rope some past volunteers (who are studying in Chiang Mai right now) to help out at the camp, really, why am I here? Why am I here, working so hard to make sure that my students can learn something, when I could be at home in my own environment, with the people who love me, who care about me, in a country I'm familiar with? Lately, I've often wondered if I was better off at home--maybe then I'll be happy. Maybe then my self-confidence will be at the level it was before I left. Maybe then my ex wouldn't have broken up with me. Maybe I would be doing something worthy with my life and making a dent in the cosmic universe.
I am a naturally pessimistic person. Those who are close to me knows that I've struggled with my identity for years; that I have self-esteem issues; that I have intimacy/trust issues; and that I have gone through a very bad phase in my life that does not improve my outlook on life. So these questions aren't unusual for me to ask myself. However, after I was hired to be a teacher, I forced myself to at least be indifferent, because I know that who I am in the classroom affects the people in the classroom. These questions all hit me at full force near the end of the English Camp, and I couldn't stand it.
I think it's because these were my students who were at the camp, and it was shoved in my face over and over that they haven't learned anything I taught them. I feel like the unit plans that my co-teacher wanted me to concentrate on is far too advanced for my students in terms of listening and speaking. I want to dumb it down as much as possible so that they've got a strong foundation in the English language. Perhaps the reason they can't grasp anything right now is because building anything on a rotten foundation falls into the mud, splatters everywhere, and you're stuck with zero all over again.
So what have I been doing the past three months? Am I wasting my time here? I love my students--they're fun and bright and usually always smiling when they greet me. But when the school does not make education a priority, it makes it significantly difficult to tell my students "let's sit down and learn something today" because they can feel it. They can feel the lack of care and nurturing, and so can I.
I wanted to be a doctor when I was little. Because I wanted to save lives. And as I grew up, I realized that doctors (not all of them) are really just businesspeople, counting dollars and change in their offices after hours. I realized that I wouldn't handle being a doctor because I can't save lives. I can only try, but trying is not good enough for Death.
After this English Camp, I don't think I'll want to be a teacher at a school whose priorities lie in maintaining their reputation through petty things like performances or presentations. If they make education their priority, their reputation will, naturally, be maintained. The students will excel, and the school receives a boost in their Name. But it doesn't work that way at TPS.
My New Years Resolution was never to give up, but it's gotten hard to work hard when no one else cares. It's tiring, and I want to go home to Iowa City at a time where I was still a student, surrounded by friends, inside jokes, overpriced coffee at an over-air-conditioned coffeehouse, and love. Thailand feels empty and grim, and the only thing I want to go is to go home and run into the nearest set of warm arms.
Who knew that English Camp could be so enlightening and disheartening all at the same time?
I'll be stronger at the end of this. I hope I will be.
I remember the moment I told my father that I wanted to be a writer. A full-on, professional writer that would have my readers thinking and feeling through good, soulful writing. And I remember the moment my father sighed and told me that I would never make it as a writer. I remember feeling like--pardon my cursing--shit, and arguing with my father the entire night until he told me that it was just safer to have a back-up.Teaching is difficult. It's even more difficult when your students have shown no understanding, no comprehension, no hint of retaining anything you've taught, regardless of how long you've taught it, how often you review the materials, how you've tried to hammer one word into their heads by reviewing for the midterm, giving them the answer to the midterm, putting the question on the midterm, reviewing the answers after they've taken the midterm, and using it on a daily basis.
The English Camp at Doi Musoe (between Muang Tak and Mae Sot) was an eye-opener for me. While others relatively enjoyed their time there, I found myself grappling with my place at this school--why am I here when I could be at home with friends? What is the reason that I'm here if I won't see my M3 classes this entire next week--do you know how many classes have been canceled already? What can I do in the amount of time that I'm here in Thailand? I can't help my kids if the school won't let them go to class. I can't help my kids if they don't give me the reign to really plan my own lesson plans. I can't help my kids if I'm only here a year and they don't want to learn English. If they're going to rope some past volunteers (who are studying in Chiang Mai right now) to help out at the camp, really, why am I here? Why am I here, working so hard to make sure that my students can learn something, when I could be at home in my own environment, with the people who love me, who care about me, in a country I'm familiar with? Lately, I've often wondered if I was better off at home--maybe then I'll be happy. Maybe then my self-confidence will be at the level it was before I left. Maybe then my ex wouldn't have broken up with me. Maybe I would be doing something worthy with my life and making a dent in the cosmic universe.
I am a naturally pessimistic person. Those who are close to me knows that I've struggled with my identity for years; that I have self-esteem issues; that I have intimacy/trust issues; and that I have gone through a very bad phase in my life that does not improve my outlook on life. So these questions aren't unusual for me to ask myself. However, after I was hired to be a teacher, I forced myself to at least be indifferent, because I know that who I am in the classroom affects the people in the classroom. These questions all hit me at full force near the end of the English Camp, and I couldn't stand it.
I think it's because these were my students who were at the camp, and it was shoved in my face over and over that they haven't learned anything I taught them. I feel like the unit plans that my co-teacher wanted me to concentrate on is far too advanced for my students in terms of listening and speaking. I want to dumb it down as much as possible so that they've got a strong foundation in the English language. Perhaps the reason they can't grasp anything right now is because building anything on a rotten foundation falls into the mud, splatters everywhere, and you're stuck with zero all over again.So what have I been doing the past three months? Am I wasting my time here? I love my students--they're fun and bright and usually always smiling when they greet me. But when the school does not make education a priority, it makes it significantly difficult to tell my students "let's sit down and learn something today" because they can feel it. They can feel the lack of care and nurturing, and so can I.
I wanted to be a doctor when I was little. Because I wanted to save lives. And as I grew up, I realized that doctors (not all of them) are really just businesspeople, counting dollars and change in their offices after hours. I realized that I wouldn't handle being a doctor because I can't save lives. I can only try, but trying is not good enough for Death.
After this English Camp, I don't think I'll want to be a teacher at a school whose priorities lie in maintaining their reputation through petty things like performances or presentations. If they make education their priority, their reputation will, naturally, be maintained. The students will excel, and the school receives a boost in their Name. But it doesn't work that way at TPS.
My New Years Resolution was never to give up, but it's gotten hard to work hard when no one else cares. It's tiring, and I want to go home to Iowa City at a time where I was still a student, surrounded by friends, inside jokes, overpriced coffee at an over-air-conditioned coffeehouse, and love. Thailand feels empty and grim, and the only thing I want to go is to go home and run into the nearest set of warm arms.
Who knew that English Camp could be so enlightening and disheartening all at the same time?
I'll be stronger at the end of this. I hope I will be.
Monday, January 9, 2012
2012 - สวัสดีปีใหม่ค่ะ
"Compare
Where you are to where you wanna be
And you'll get
Nowhere"
Just a good song to start the new year! Everything is uncharted, and the possibilities are endless!
"I'm listening to E, SH, SM, M, and J chat as I watch a star flicker red, blue, and green. It flickers with desperation--as if an old man knowing his time is almost up and is anxious to say his goodbyes. I'm almost afraid that it's an airplane, but it's not moving. What a silly concern. It's the brightest in the sky. I love this atmosphere. I have the sound of the ocean, rolling over the rocks to my right; soft conversations coming from around me, and soft English music coming from over head. They played Daughtry earlier--it's absolutely lovely. So lovely it almost makes me want to cry."Happy New Year!
My 2012 ended and began with these lovely ladies in Bang Bao, Koh Chang, Trat, Thailand. The previous bit is taken from an entry I wrote in my diary as I was with these wonderful people the first night of 2012.
Koh Chang was just what I needed to end the turbulent, almost-miserable end-of-the-year and to begin all over again with friends I could connect with, where I felt safe, happy, and like myself. It's been a long time since I've felt that way, and it was refreshing. So many thanks to those girls who have turned my year around to start on a great note!
We went to the national park to hike a bit and swim at the waterfall. It was lovely, and there were many people there. We stayed much longer than intended, but it was worth it just to be around people to talk and spend time with them. It was a sunny day, and the water almost burnt my warm skin when I jumped in. A couple of laps back and forth, and I became one with the water.
I haven't been to the beach since I was 5, when the waves pulled my new shovel and bucket out into the ocean. I ran after it, and my dad--clever man--pulled me back and convinced me that I was doing a good thing by letting it go because now the Little Mermaid will have something new to play with. "You can't be selfish, baobei," he lead me back to the car, the bottom of his jeans soaked with salt water. "Think about how happy you've made the Little Mermaid."This time, I didn't have a new bucket or shovel to offer the Little Mermaid, but I hope she knows that I'm still thinking about that bucket and shovel and hoping she's putting it to good use, whatever use that may be.
The water was clear, even about a kilometer out past the shore. SH and I searched for shells, clams, and sand dollars for several hours. I felt like an explorer, searching through the sand for answers or some definitive treasure, but took back nothing but soggy hopes and more questions.
I'm not one to make new years resolutions, because I've always been such a failure at keeping them, but this is the most important time for me to make one and to keep it. It's the hardest thing I'll ever do: never give up. Especially now. Regardless of how miserable I am at this school; no matter if I feel like I haven't done a thing to help these kids; even if these kids are so bad that it makes me want to break down and cry, I won't give up. Because I can't let my kids down, I can't let my family and friends down, and I can't let myself down.
And I'll always let myself cry as long as I can smile directly after.
So many happy new year wishes, and here's to hoping I'll grow up and mature, become less naive, less selfish, and dedicate my time and energy to my students rather than myself and my emo muse.
As for the writing aspect in my life: it's only just begun!
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