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.