So I’ve come out to my colleagues at Bangkhonthii school.  Not my original intention, but…  Story below:

Only a half-day of class at the school in Bangkhonthii, because Ajarn Yai declared a teacher’s seminar in the afternoon to learn more about how to teach English, my understanding being that I would better understand the existing curriculum so I can bring the teaching I’m doing more into alignment with it.

Tod was unable to join as he had to go up to Chiang Mai with his parents. which ensured I’d have full opportunity to practice my Thai in spades.

The morning session was punctuated by an event providing interesting cultural insight:

We work in a classroom with two large tables, ten to twelve students around each table.  When I’m checking homework and giving feedback to individual students, I usually sit or kneel next to them.  This way I can see their face and can use that as a tool to help evaluate the extent to which they’re comprehending me.  If I ask “khawjai, mai khrap?” – do you understand? – they’ll invariably say yes whether or not they actually do.

Sometimes there is an empty chair and I can sit in it, other times I just kneel next to them, which gets us on eye level. Upon seeing this, Ajarn Yai came into the classroom and told me, in English, that she didn’t want me kneeling in front of the students, and then proceeded to lecture the students about treating me with the same respect as any of their Thai teachers.  The edict: they are to either get me a chair from elsewhere in the room or vacate a seat so that when I need to sit next to someone, I can sit in a chair.  The entire class was them made to apologize to me, twice.

The cultural insight: In Thailand, everying this about vertical levels: the head is the highest part of the body, literally and metaphorically; the foot is the lowest.  In a hall, the king/monk/teacher/parent sits on a raised dias while the subject/layity/student/child sits on the floor.  So I understand that kneeling next to the children, even though it brings us to eye level, also could be interpreted as a “lowering” of myself to an undignified level.  At the same time, from a western perspective, I’m thinking, “mai ben rai” – no problem.  I’ve learned enough, though, to not protest in situations like this that “it’s okay.”  I’m in Thailand, playing by the Thai rules, and if Ajarn Yai thinks

The seminar

After lunch, about 1:00, all of the teachers at the school (five) plus the directors of three other schools in the area and two additional teachers, convened in the main office.  Ajarn Yai spoke of this being a great opportunity to learn, about how thankful she was for her volunteers, and then gave me a jasmine garland – a sign of respect of appreciation.

Then, the teachers took turns asking me questions.  At first the questions were relatively easy and appropriate to answer, based on my experience.  “How do you find Thai children’s behavior?”  “What obstacles have you found to their learning English?”  “What techniques have you used in the classroom?” – remember, all of this is in Thai with only a bit of translation from Ajarn Yai.

As we progressed, though, the questions exceeded the orbit of my solar system of experience and knowledge: “How do you compare learning styles of Thai students and Western students?”  “At what age do Western students start independent study?”  “What skills would Thai students most benefit from?”  “How would you go about teaching leader and guide skills?”*  “What techniques would you recommend to teach them those skills?”

(*I must clarify that I think “leader and guide” in this case didn’t mean leadership skills, but rather skills that would allow them to either become tour guides or show people around.)

It finally reached a point where I had to politely remind everyone that I have no previous experience teaching children and, unlike them, have no professional training.  It would be out of place for me to offer my thoughts on some of those questions because I don’t have the necessary professional experience.  They seemed to understand that but the questions continued nonetheless.

Along the way, four additional peo ple arrived, one of whom is the local representative of the Department of Education. 

In the end I agreed that as I came up with techiniques, games, or other activities that were particularly helpful for the children at Bangkhonthii, I would work with Ajarn Yai to write them down so they can be shared with other schools.  Additionally, to help the teachers work on pronunciation, I would make simple digital audio recordings of their main textbooks so they could burn CDs for the schools.

The other thing that came up, is that the other schools want to be able to expose their students to farang as well.  So I think in December when my parents, aunt and uncles are in town, we’ll come down and use that as an opportunity for the other schools to send a limited number of children over.  We can pair everyone up and give them an opportunity to speak with the farang.

Out on the Mehklong

The seminar ended shortly after 3:00 as the rain started to fall.  The guests went to their cars and Ajarn Yai told me that she’d like me to join her and the Bangkhonthii teachers for aahan tallay – seafood.

It was at the conclusion of this meal, enjoyed on the banks of the Mehkhlong River as the sun set, when I came out to the teachers.  It wasn’t my intention to do so; I’ve responded to inquiries about my personal life using the word “fan” to describe Tawn, the gender-neutral term that roughly translates into “significant other.”  Thai is one of those languages – Chinese is another, I think – in which the third person pronoun is gender-neutral.  So a person can go a long way without being too specific.

But one of the teachers inquired about my fan and asked, “Fan kong khun ben phuuying?” – Is your fan a woman?  I paused for a second and in that second weighed my options: I could either tell the truth or I could lie.  Thoughts that crossed my mind:

• Unlike a friend in Singapore who is a teacher, my livelihood is not at stake here, nor is there any legal prohibitions to be worried about.  Culturally, Thais are generally more accepting of different lifestyles.
• I performed a commitment ceremony in front of my family, exchanging vows with Tawn and making a lifetime commitment.  If I put the fear of others’ disapproval ahead of that commitment, what does it say about the commitment?
• Finally, I’ve been volunteering for several months and have made enough progress and been seen as valuable enough (with Tod as my partner in this project) to be made the guest speaker at a seminar.  If that contribution can be undone with me just sharing the gender of my fan, then there is little value I can add for the children in the long run anyhow.

So I ran through all that in a split second and then responded to the teacher, “Mai chai.  Fan phom ben phuuchai.”

It was difficult to gauge the reactions: shock, disbelief, embarrassment, thinking that I maybe was just confused in my use of Thai.  Nothing outright confrontational (that wouldn’t be very Thai, now would it?) nor any rainbow flag-waving support.  I think – think being the operative word – Ajarn Yai was trying to explain to me that people can have a “phuen sanit” – dear friend – but that is different from a fan. 

So I’m out to my teaching colleagues.  There is a three-week break before school continues and I think Tod and I may go down there once during the break to work with the teachers on pronunciation.  We’ll see how it plays out; more updates in future posts.

Food for Thought

From the San Francisco Bicycle Coalition weekly email newsletter, this quote from Elizabeth West:

“When man invented the bicycle, he reached the peak of his attainments.  Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man.  And (unlike subsequent inventions for man’s convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became.  Here, for once, was a product of man’s brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it, and of no harm or irritation to others.  Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle.”

— Elizabeth West, Hovel in the Hills