The Banterbury Tales: ‘You called me for this…?’ And other short stories

Ban Mi is a lovely place, small, but great. Probably its best feature is that it is also home to four other ETAs; Katleeya, Pattara, Watong and Asawin (better known as Katherine, Neil, Sheree and Oliver). Its second point of attraction is that it is incredibly safe. Despite repeated local warnings of late- night gang warfare and pick-pockets waiting at every corner, the most terrifying thing I personally experienced would have to be the local wildlife. Whilst there are a ridiculous number of dogs prowling the streets, the underlying presumption seems to be that most of them belong to someone, and as such, they do not pose a particular threat. Walking the three- minute, street- lit journey to the local 7/11 therefore seems to be considerably less daunting than facing our seven- foot long scaly neighbour (Neils and Asawin can confirm that this beast does in fact exist). Teachers at the school have recounted tales of trying to shoot the beast on the sly, only to have their bullets rebound off its insanely thick skin. Word of this crocodile- like creature’s poisonous claws has spread like wildfire. Fortunately, the only real disturbances we’ve had at number two Teacher Boulevard have come in the form of geckos, mosquitoes and spiders.

Some of the Lop Buri massive members outside mine and Katherine's typically Thai house

Ban Mi teachers with Pi Sue: (L- R) Pi Sue, myself, Oliver, Neils, Katherine and Sheree

Never having been particularly concerned about insects, reptiles, or any other type of irritating creature, it has recently occurred to me just how much of my time here has been spent embroiled in a battle against bugs. As I write this, I am still reeling from the aftershocks of a pretty drastic spider invasion. I still can’t quite believe that we called back- up, even more so that our mentor actually came to our house at 11pm on a Saturday evening to deliver us from our paralysed, torch- wielding states. Whilst this is clearly testament to our mentor’s all- round amazing-ness (equally to her pyjama- clad husband), it does give some sort of indication as to how big the spider actually was. My ‘Mai Pen Rai’ attitude to the lightbulb in my room breaking probably hadn’t helped matters either, and the cave- like appearance of my living quarters evidently played its role in luring the spider to its particularly nasty end.

Pest control aside, evening entertainment In Ban(t) Mi has included:

YouTube

A spot of ten-pin bowling

‘Lesson Planning’ (YouTube)

It quickly became apparent that extensive lesson planning was a complete and utter waste of time. I can still remember the wave of panic engulfing me in my first solo lesson, when the course of the lesson deviated drastically from my meticulous lesson plan. The pace at which ‘How are you today?’ regularly descends into anarchy really is awe- inspiring, especially in the absence of a non- computerised translator. Tangents are the Thai students’ speciality.

Similarly, the sheer volume of school trips and entire year group absences across the board is staggering. This, combined with the bizarre dichotomy between the grading system and the actual ability of the kids has rendered an in depth level of organisation wholly unnecessary. 

Something that has been intrinsically vital, however; is an open mind. A willingness to try absolutely anything… If you tried to have everything your way, the stress of everyday life would be so much, that you would probably be institutionalised within a matter of weeks. Repeating ‘Mai Pen Rai’ (don’t worry) at every available opportunity is a national pastime. It’s more ingrained into Thai culture than small talk about the weather in England, even than wild gesticulation in Italy.

It’s funny how laid back the Thai people are about some things, for example, the totally unintentional with-holding of information (such as the sports complex, just three hundred metres down the road, that remained unmentioned for a whole month), and how unbelievably efficient they are in other respects. The inspection that took place whilst we were here was indeed a sight to behold. Days before the big day, students were pulled out of class to do the gardening; spring clean classrooms and sweep the dust off decorations which had presumably not seen daylight since the last inspection. In the midst of all this chaos, the whole of Mattiyong 1 (the youngest age group) and Mattiyong 4 (aged around fifteen- enough said) were shipped off to the local temple, on a three day spiritual adventure, conveniently coinciding with one of the most important academic events in the school calendar. In spite of this level of outward organisation, a mere fifteen hours before the arrival of the inspectors from the Ministry prompted a wave of panic to cascade through the English Department. It emerged that everyone had completely neglected to write the all- important introductory speech for the welcoming ceremony. Matters that needed addressing in this speech included the school’s recent national award for their model toilets, the staggering number of pupils not using drugs, and their recent hiring of two new English Teachers (*ETAs). These seemingly bizarre priorities are easily explained by the fact that learning is listed as only the fourth most important element of schooling in Thailand, in what is the closest thing the country has to a syllabus.  With just ten minutes to go before my next lesson, paper and pen were thrust into my hand and my mentor hastily tried to dictate to me a sugar- coated spiel. Somewhere between writing about ASEAN week and congratulating myself for being a fantastic teacher, a fight broke out in the adjacent classroom; a sure sign my students were waiting for me. Vowing to finish it later, I rushed to the educational service of Mattiyong 2, just in time to see my mentor scrawl ‘Thank you for listening’ mid- way through an unfinished sentence and propel the speech into the oncoming path of an unsuspecting student, to learn for the following morning.

In any event, the inspection seemed to go pretty well and the poor girl held it together as she stood at the podium, delivering a speech in her very best ‘Thinglish’. Katherine and I were also called upon to give speeches to the visiting inspectors, but fortunately, we were spared the stress of having to prepare anything beforehand, and had to declare our love for Thailand to the expectant audience from the bottom of our hearts instead.

I’m going to miss the ‘I love you teacher’ from the adorable students in Mattiyong 1, and the obligatory after- class photo sessions. Maybe I’ll even miss the tale- telling, and the constant cooing from the armies of aspiring lady boys. After this, teaching in the UK just couldn’t compare. I’ve grown to like the chaos and uncertainty that characterise everyday life in the classroom here; never knowing if your class is going to turn up or not has become strangely liberating. Take the time when forty two Mattiyong 5 pupils were suspiciously absent from their seventh period class on a Wednesday afternoon. I managed to mobilise a pretty thorough investigation squad, involving the school tannoy system, and various other teachers, eventually discovering that the entire year group were all excused from school that day, because they were doing a test about ‘pizza’ (a misspelling, perhaps, either way, nothing more was explained, and no one else had previously noticed). The Thai teachers take it all in their stride, and now, so do I. I like that the word ‘assistant’ has clearly been irrevocably lost in translation- deciding what to teach, how to teach it, who to teach it to by myself is great, especially in the apparent absence of any standardised syllabus. Of course, sometimes it would have been nice to have had a human translator in the classroom however, Google Translate literally has been a godsend, and more often than not, a Thai teacher who makes it to one of my lessons will just assume the hugely- distracting role of photographer. An especially surreal moment was when Kru Nongrit (Nicky) marketed an individual photo opportunity with Teacher Mali Wan (myself) as an incentive for the kids, when I was struggling to elicit any volunteers from Mattiyong 3 to demonstrate their conversation about weather.     

'The Line'

Casual chat, in front of the TV cameras!

What do you do when two classes turn up for the same lesson...? Inter- class telephone conversation!!

Probably my favourite week in terms of teaching was week three, where we decided to teach the Olympic Games. The students at Piyabut School genuinely are into sports, and they picked up the vocab pretty quickly. I’m still a bit gutted that we missed the Olympics this summer in London, especially as my family had tickets, but this eased the pain a little.