At my school, for grades one through three, the teachers (foreign and Thai) are expected to alternate weeks swimming with the class. Included in this package deal along with swimming and making sure none of your brats drown, you are also required to help your kids get changed into and out of their swim wear. Being in a room with twelve six year old girls is potentially my least favorite part of the job.
Apart from the fact that they're running around with their lady bits out for the world to see and you never quite know where to look; you've got the high pitched squeals and giggles, lost underpants, and (because we're in Thailand) the occasional puff of baby powder in your face. Last week was my worst locker room visit.
One of my girls pointed to her belly button and said, "Teacher, look."
Guys in high school used to play this game where they would make the number three sign or asshole sign by touching their index finger tip to their thumb tip and the other three fingers sticking straight out together. They would then try to call someone's attention to their hand. If they were successful, the sucker got punched. Maybe in the nuts? I might be mixing up adolescent boys games.
Anyway, I was the sucker.
I saw that she wanted me to see her outtie belly button, "Wow," I said, "you've got an outtie! That's awesome."
"Awesome? My mom told me not to show it to people because it's not beautiful."
Wow. Perfect grammar, I thought. No, no, focus.
Keeping my jaw off the floor and the rage out of my voice was next to impossible. So I did the only thing I knew to do. I turned to face her square on so all of the other girls in the room could hear me and I calmly and slowly said, "Not everyone gets to have an outtie. Your belly button is special because it is different. That makes your belly button and you beautiful."
Everyone took pause and then carried on like nothing had even happened. Like a commercial where everyone is in a diner and the frying pans and the dinging bells and clanking coffee cups pause for a split second before they go back to serving their purpose as background noise for an Advil commercial. Dramatic effect I believe is what I learned in college.
Six years old. Six years old. The woman who should be instilling strength and planting seeds of self esteem is doing the opposite by teaching her daughter to be ashamed of the very parts of her that will make her unique, that assist her in developing her view of herself; parts that will bother her through her teen years and probably well into her 20's because she knows not everyone has one. And her mom told her to and we all know moms know everything. One day, though, hopefully she'll overcome it.
She'll quiet the sound of her mother's voice of disapproval, having not even realized that her own voice of disapproval sounds eerily similar. Something will shift and suddenly the perceived flaw will be seen as beautiful and special.
Hopefully, she'll be able to turn and face herself square on so all of the other girls in the room can hear her, and she'll calmly and slowly say, "Not everyone gets to have an outtie. Your belly button is special because it is different. That makes your belly button and YOU beautiful."
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Friday, July 18, 2014
Wai Kru
I've been on a writing hiatus. I promised myself I wouldn't write if there wasn't anything to write about because inner ramblings generally become stale, in my opinion. Today, though, I experienced something worthwhile to rant about, so here it goes. Warning: my anger reached new heights today.
Wai Kru is Teacher Appreciation Day. My roommate and friend, Matt said it best as we messaged back and forth from across the unairconditioned gymnasium, "I'd like to be appreciated with a day off." Genius. Instead, I spent the first two hours of my day sweating through my uniform, trying my best to pick out the few Thai words I know and ignoring the surrounding sniggers coming from all the Thai teachers watching in delight as the farangs melted.
Let me break down rehearsal. The first half hour of our totally unorganized sauna session included moving lines of children to the left, to the right, front, back, by eight steps, each time. Sit down, stand up, scoot over, get in a straighter line.
They chanted. I don't know what they say. I believe it is Buddhist, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me since everyone at the school is not Buddhist. This isn't America, though, so the majority's way is everyone's way. If you are different, prepare for ridicule. Guess what? The chanting wasn't perfect the first time and that just will not do because everything is about show here. Thus the kids chanted the same thing repeatedly until they all said it in unison. We listened to a teacher rant about who knows what for another decade.
Then the "appreciation" part started. This involved teachers herding the children through channels of other childrens' hats and shoes to line up in front of all of the Thai and foreign teachers (one class at a time). Then they were told to stand in a wai position (think Christian prayer style, but the tips of your fingers are touching your nostrils), then get down on their knees, and put their foreheads to the floor.
I believe this is a gesture generally reserved for sitting in front of a monk, but for tomorrow, my status moves a step up the ladder. I'll be ladened with flowers and gifts because I. am. the. shit.
I would rather just be given the day off.. but who doesn't love flowers?
Wai Kru is Teacher Appreciation Day. My roommate and friend, Matt said it best as we messaged back and forth from across the unairconditioned gymnasium, "I'd like to be appreciated with a day off." Genius. Instead, I spent the first two hours of my day sweating through my uniform, trying my best to pick out the few Thai words I know and ignoring the surrounding sniggers coming from all the Thai teachers watching in delight as the farangs melted.
Let me break down rehearsal. The first half hour of our totally unorganized sauna session included moving lines of children to the left, to the right, front, back, by eight steps, each time. Sit down, stand up, scoot over, get in a straighter line.
They chanted. I don't know what they say. I believe it is Buddhist, which doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me since everyone at the school is not Buddhist. This isn't America, though, so the majority's way is everyone's way. If you are different, prepare for ridicule. Guess what? The chanting wasn't perfect the first time and that just will not do because everything is about show here. Thus the kids chanted the same thing repeatedly until they all said it in unison. We listened to a teacher rant about who knows what for another decade.
Then the "appreciation" part started. This involved teachers herding the children through channels of other childrens' hats and shoes to line up in front of all of the Thai and foreign teachers (one class at a time). Then they were told to stand in a wai position (think Christian prayer style, but the tips of your fingers are touching your nostrils), then get down on their knees, and put their foreheads to the floor.
 |
| Uncomfortable foreign teachers... |
I believe this is a gesture generally reserved for sitting in front of a monk, but for tomorrow, my status moves a step up the ladder. I'll be ladened with flowers and gifts because I. am. the. shit.
I would rather just be given the day off.. but who doesn't love flowers?
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Tomb Raiding in Siem Reap, Cambodia
My housemates and I headed north for the long weekend. Thanks, Buddhist Lent. I didn't even know that was a thing. We hauled ass from school to the airport to make our 6:30 pm flight to Bangkok. One night in Bangkok was more than enough for me.
We got a real feel for local living by waiting for the bus outside of the airport that whisked us away to the MRT (train). More than anything, it made me nostalgic for my last home, Chicago. A moment, a smell, a song, that's all it takes sometimes. The best part of my time in Bangkok was the ticket collector on the bus.
We rode the A1 bus to Mochit, a stop en route to who knows where, that allowed us to hop a train to our hotel. We weren't on the bus long, but watching the firecracker conductor collecting fares was well worth the 20 THB ride. She wore her two toned mullet with a rare sort of grace, black roots and faded, grown out bottle blonde tips brushing her shoulders. I don't think she actually needed her Pepto Bismol pink glasses, but who cares. She carried with her a cylindrical metal case, which looked to be suited for pencils and pens. It was used to produce a paper ticket, catch bits of paper which signified where you got on and where you'd get off, as well as making change for each passenger. That's right, you don't have to have exact change. Her dexterity was something to behold, it was evident she'd been performing this routine for years. She never asked the same person for payment twice, never missed a stop (she announced each one), and she was extremely friendly. Basically she was far more proficient than any Metra conductor I ever encountered in the Windy City. Although she was tiny and aged, she isn't someone I would want to cross.
After completing our public transit experience, we exited the station onto a seedy street. I can't say with complete confidence that all the streets in Bangkok are seedy, but something tells me they are. In search of our hotel, we passed through street vendors setting up for the evening. Tables full of lighters, tazers, dildos, drugs, racks of inappropriate shirts (think naked men), hats, Thai pants, and so on, lined both sides of the sidewalk. We perused later, after finding out creepy hotel, for about an hour. At which point we decided to "turn in" and buy a few beers in the lobby and drink them in our room. We had an early start the next day to get to Cambodia.
Siem Reap is a lovely little town. The Cambodian people are very nice, have a great sense of humor, and speak unbelievably good English. There is an interesting mix of expats and a fantastic variety of western foods. Finding a good sandwich wasn't a mission like it generally is in Phuket. The purpose of the trip was to experience the ruins. Boy, did we. We left our footprints on the ruins of Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Bayon, Banteay Srei, and Ta Prohm. The pictures don't do it justice..
We got a real feel for local living by waiting for the bus outside of the airport that whisked us away to the MRT (train). More than anything, it made me nostalgic for my last home, Chicago. A moment, a smell, a song, that's all it takes sometimes. The best part of my time in Bangkok was the ticket collector on the bus.
We rode the A1 bus to Mochit, a stop en route to who knows where, that allowed us to hop a train to our hotel. We weren't on the bus long, but watching the firecracker conductor collecting fares was well worth the 20 THB ride. She wore her two toned mullet with a rare sort of grace, black roots and faded, grown out bottle blonde tips brushing her shoulders. I don't think she actually needed her Pepto Bismol pink glasses, but who cares. She carried with her a cylindrical metal case, which looked to be suited for pencils and pens. It was used to produce a paper ticket, catch bits of paper which signified where you got on and where you'd get off, as well as making change for each passenger. That's right, you don't have to have exact change. Her dexterity was something to behold, it was evident she'd been performing this routine for years. She never asked the same person for payment twice, never missed a stop (she announced each one), and she was extremely friendly. Basically she was far more proficient than any Metra conductor I ever encountered in the Windy City. Although she was tiny and aged, she isn't someone I would want to cross.
After completing our public transit experience, we exited the station onto a seedy street. I can't say with complete confidence that all the streets in Bangkok are seedy, but something tells me they are. In search of our hotel, we passed through street vendors setting up for the evening. Tables full of lighters, tazers, dildos, drugs, racks of inappropriate shirts (think naked men), hats, Thai pants, and so on, lined both sides of the sidewalk. We perused later, after finding out creepy hotel, for about an hour. At which point we decided to "turn in" and buy a few beers in the lobby and drink them in our room. We had an early start the next day to get to Cambodia.
Siem Reap is a lovely little town. The Cambodian people are very nice, have a great sense of humor, and speak unbelievably good English. There is an interesting mix of expats and a fantastic variety of western foods. Finding a good sandwich wasn't a mission like it generally is in Phuket. The purpose of the trip was to experience the ruins. Boy, did we. We left our footprints on the ruins of Angkor Wat, Angkor Thom, Bayon, Banteay Srei, and Ta Prohm. The pictures don't do it justice..
Everything was exquisite and seemingly from another world. It was so hot. And there were people crawling all over the place. I was shocked by the lack of roped off areas and restrictions on where you could step. The only areas protected were those in which the most damage could be done to humans rather than the structures. My friends and I marveled at this, commenting that "if we were in America you would never be able to go in there/step on that/touch this," and guessing how many more years it will be as open and free as it is before they realize it will need to be protected from grubby international fingers.
Siem Reap is amazing. There is so much history and culture. It is easy to get to and even easier to get around. If you're like me and you have difficulty wrapping your mind around ancient history because the amount of time that has gone by is so unfathomable, being able to be amongst something so concrete (no pun intended) is grounding and spectacular all at once.
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