This is What Love Looks Like: Teaching English in Thailand

KISSMAS EVE

7 Across: kissmaseve. Hilariously, this student left the last two squares blank!

Christmas cards students wrote to me

“im to sun-sang-nim 선생님” = im to Teacher

“sa-rang-hae 사랑해” = I love you

“Christmas Day”

Face mask sporting Santa Clause saying “Get it” with an image of “$5 massage” in a thought bubble, and dolla-dolla-bills flying out of his $$ money-sack. Gangsta-Clause!

In a previous post, I described Rose, a student who went ballistic upon discovering I would not be her teacher for Term 2. As much as Rose loved me, I loved my students the same way—vehemently. Teaching my students brought out a level of maternal love so fierce only an act of God could make me quit. It would take a sequence of events so egregious that I had no choice.

72 Hours

It’s a fact that not everyone will like us, and that we won’t always get along with our colleagues. So it happened that my colleague whom I shall refer to as “Chris” ended up hating me with such violent rage, without ever explaining what I had done to set him off. Chris is the teacher whom I described in an earlier post who verbally and physically assaulted a class, which was then transferred to me. That class, dubbed “Cinderella Story”—containing the Cologne Splasher—became one of my diamonds in the rough. They remained rough, but I saw their Light, and they shined and shined.

I had reconciled myself to the reality that Chris and I would avoid one another, but on the several occasions when I had to speak to him, I did so in a professional manner. I believed we could at least see this uncomfortable situation through until the end of term, upon which we would never have to interact with one another again.

Our mutual avoidance, although never discussed, was obvious to the rest of our teaching team and the head teacher, but no one, not even the head teacher, ever approached me to ask what was going on. The head teacher set the environment of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” He made it clear he did not want to know about anything unless he was specifically interested or forced to inquire further.

This situation had been going on for nearly three months, when during a group message chat Chris openly insulted me. It was disrespectful and demeaning. I immediately sent a private email to the head teacher letting him know that I considered this behavior as harassment, vulgar bullying, and that I refused to be in physical proximity with Chris anymore. The head teacher, according to his M.O., did nothing. He didn’t acknowledge my complaint, didn’t respond, and didn’t reprimand Chris on our teacher messaging board.

The next day, Chris sent another message taking a shot at me. I immediately fired off an email to the director and owner of the company, who responded to me within two hours. They wanted to know everything: The history of our problem, the teacher’s name, the messages he had been sending about me. Only then did I receive a private response from the head teacher—obviously he had been forced into acknowledging my complaint.

He said he would “talk to Chris”, but did so privately. He did not reprimand him publicly, although Chris had been verbally harassing me publicly. Thus, with no one willing to defend me, I decided I had to defend myself. I sent a public response to Chris, stating: Chris, your messages about me are hostile, disrespectful, and unprofessional. I will not accept harassment or bullying of any type.

This escalated with a private message from Chris threatening to physically assault me, and public messages on our teacher board sending more taunting, hostile messages to me. The head teacher also privately messaged me, saying Chris was now sending abusive messages to him, and threatening to have him arrested for drugs. I understood why the head teacher literally refused to defend me in any way against Chris: because he had been doing dirty deeds with Chris and sought to protect himself.

The director and owner urged me to file a police report against Chris, saying the Thai coordinator would escort me. We drove to the police station where I explained the situation in English, and the Thai coordinator explained it in Thai. Then I had to sign a book with my name and address. While waiting in the small, stuffy office, I knew it was over. I could never go back to school. I could never go back to living as I had been, I could never go back to teaching as I had been.

The director and owner said they would terminate Chris. It was the ethical decision, and more integrity than the head teacher ever demonstrated. It would, however, enrage Chris further. He knew where I lived. He knew where I worked. Furthermore, it wasn’t as if once he was fired, he would move to another city. He lived in the town with his Thai wife who had a business there. I suddenly felt intense pain in my bladder.

Filing my police report at the local station

When the police officer handed me my report, I told the Thai coordinator to drive to the school so I could pick up some things before bringing me home. I cleaned out my desk: five bags of truffle chocolates I had intended to distribute to the students for Christmas; the props I had made for games, BTS postcards which I gave out as prizes to my female students (and one male student!). I left the Christmas cards taped on the wall. When the coordinator dropped me off at my hotel, I gave him one of the bags of chocolates.

Morning assembly.

Time to die: My Guru’s Grace

By the time I reached my room, I had a full blown urinary tract infection from the stress. Thankfully, I had antibiotics in my cupboard, and started a dose. I also swallowed pills that took an excruciating eternity to ease the pain. For the next hour, I ran to the toilet every 30 seconds with burning, stabbing pain. I could not tolerate it, and thus swallowed another dose of pain pills.

I immediately experienced overdose symptoms. I felt everything in my body contracting; my veins constricted, my internal organs curled into fetal positions as my body went ice-cold like a corpse. Everything felt stiff, heavy, and hard as granite. My eyeballs vibrated uncontrollably, and I was hyperventilating with my airways starting to close down. I knew in a flash I was dying.

I lay down on the floor with a photo of my guru on my heart and waited to die. I calmly said “Goodbye” to my family, then observed my body functions shutting down. My mind remained completely calm, as if recording the dying process like a detached reporter. There was no fear, no sadness, no regret, self-pity, no ill-will. Just this deep peace as I watched my chest heave up and down, my eyes glued to my guru. My surrender was complete.

I did not die. What I did do was succumb to a drug-induced-overdose-coma-sleep. Unbeknownst to me, my father had repeatedly emailed and phoned me. In desperation, he contacted the head teacher to have the hotel check on me.

Earlier, I had forwarded all of Chris’ threatening messages to my family, and told them that in case something happened to me, they should contact the head teacher. I had promised to message them twice a day so they knew I was safe. My father, fearing the worst, reached out to the head teacher.

It was a surreal experience to open my eyes to pitch blackness, to hear someone knocking, then hearing a “click” and seeing my door open, the light slashing in in a slanting column. I thought for a moment Chris had found out my room number and had come to attack me.

I had the clarity to approach the door with my phone on “camera” mode. Peeking through the narrow opening, I saw it was not Chris but the hotel manager. She had opened my door because I had not responded to phone calls or knocking. She explained that my family had been trying to contact me and that I needed to call them. I nodded, closed my door, and emailed my father at midnight. He was sick with fear. I feared he would die from the stress.

Thus, I moved out the next morning. I hastily made reservations at a hotel in Bangkok, and packed up my belongings. I forfeited $200 worth of Chinese herbs which were already en route from the US. I would not be here to receive them; I would never come back. I gifted the remaining four bags of truffle chocolates and the BTS postcards to the girls at the front desk.

Three weeks

Once installed in the hotel in Bangkok, I continued to teach my classes online for three more weeks. The school had temporarily closed due to a Covid-19 surge, but after three weeks, the school would re-open. The students would return to class. I would not. How I loved even the online interaction. Although the majority of my students did not turn on their cameras, it was a joy just to hear them, to hear their voices and be with them again.

As my students entered the online classroom, they immediately noticed my urban background.

“Teacher! Teacher! Where are you?” they asked.

I shrugged and held up my hands, asking, “Can you guess?”

“Bangkok!” (actually, they yelled “krung-thep กรุงเทพ”, to which I said, “English please!”)

They recognized I was no longer in our small town.

“Wow!” they exclaimed. Bangkok is considered very posh.

When I taught my “most cherished class“, they took the line of questioning even further.

“Teacher, are you in Bangkok to visit your boyfriend?” they inquired like a stern father.

“No!” I said, laughing.

“Teacher, is your boyfriend Thai?” they asked, clearly not believing me.

“No!” I said laughing and firmly shaking my head, “I don’t have a boyfriend!”

“Do you live in a condo?”

“No, I live in a hotel.”

“How long will you stay there?”

“For a month or longer.”

Pause. Then Dom said, “Teacher, you must have a lot of money to stay in Bangkok for a long time.”

“I have enough,” I said, to which Dom nodded solemnly.

I tried to regain my composure while requesting my students to message me their student numbers so they would receive credit for attending the class. As they started messaging me, I acknowledged receipt by saying, “Thank you Toey, I see your number; Thank you Fluke, I see your number; Thank you Nut, I see your—” I paused. “Oh! Nut has written something to me in Korean!”

I looked at the sentence and said, “Okay, let’s read it.”

Since I am still slow in reading and comprehending simultaneously, I had read nearly the entire sentence aloud before realizing what it meant. Then I lost it. I couldn’t help it—both embarrassed and amused—I was cracking up. With a deep-blushing-wine stain all over my face, finally I looked up and said, “Thank you Nut. And bak-su 박수! You wrote in Korean!”

“안영하세요 세상에서 가장 아름다운 선생님” = Hello to the most beautiful teacher in the world.

“다시만나서반가워요” = It’s nice to be reunited and see you again.

Two times is twice as nice

Students are tardy in Thailand. Facts. It was no different when we went online; I had some students entering the online classroom up to ten minutes before the end. Thus, it was a surprise when a student appeared exactly on time, on the dot. He was the only student for about five minutes, and luckily his English is pretty good, so we chatted while we waited for his classmates.

Students trickled in for the next ten minutes when I decided I would have to start teaching. I could wait no longer. I presented the entire lesson and dismissed the students. Literally, right as those students began signing off, a batch of tardy students started signing on! So much so that I was waving and saying “Goodbye, thank you for attending!” and “Hello, welcome to class!” in the same breath! My students must’ve thought, Teacher has gone completely nuts.

It was a healthy class of 15 tardy students, so I decided to present the lesson again, but at a faster pace. I noticed one student named Wan had attended the first seating (who knew I would be accommodating series of seatings, but hey, that’s teaching in Thailand!) and had disconnected, but then she re-appeared in the classroom.

“Wan!” I brightened, “Welcome back!”

On the first day of our class meeting, Wan had approached me and said, “Teacher, you are beautiful.” Another time, she had come to me to ask a question, and stumbled over her words. She slapped her own face.

This is something I have witnessed exclusively among my female students; I have never witnessed my male students slapping their own face. Any time a female student made a mistake, no matter how trivial, they hit themselves.

When Wan slapped herself, I put my hand on her shoulder and said, “Never hit yourself. You are precious. There is preciousness inside of you.”

Wan smiled and let out a laugh of surprise. I guess no one had ever told her that.

At the start of an advanced-level class, I looked out my window and said, “It’s grey in Bangkok; it’s very polluted over here.” I swiveled my laptop and showed them the Bangkok skyline. Wall-to-wall slate grey.

A student named Andy said, “Teacher, do you want to see my house?”

“Yes!” I said.

He moved his camera around and revealed a yard filled with banana trees—with leaves so lush any elephant would be salivating. He kept moving his camera to show me verdant, flourishing green plants, and an expanse of sky so clear and blue I could’ve swam in it.

It was my turn to be impressed. “Wow!” I said.

When a student named June entered the class, the sun broke through the smoggy haze.

“June!” I said, “I had been telling the class that is it grey in Bangkok, but just as you came online, the sun came out. You are my lucky charm!”

June smiled.

June’s cute face lighting up my screen and smoggy Bangkok

Me and Pea

At the end of class, I had dismissed everyone, but one student remained behind. His avatar was named “Pea” (he didn’t turn his camera on). If an avatar could look sheepish, Pea appeared sheepish as he said, “Well, everyone else is gone, I guess I should go too, but I don’t want to.”

“Then you don’t have to go Pea. Do you have a question for me?” I asked.

“No, I just want to practice my English more, if that is okay with you.”

I was delighted. I was impressed. I was honored.

And so at the end of every lesson, I spent another 45 minutes conversing with Pea. His level of fluency, pronunciation and comprehension were very high. I assumed he had been receiving extra private tutoring to have mastered English so well at such a young age, but he said “No.” Pea explained that he went out of his way to study English on his own and engaged in English activities every day.

He told me his favorite subjects were English and math. He had plans to go to university, obtain a teacher’s degree, and teach English as a Thai teacher. Pea also said that one time they had a teacher from England with such a strong accent that no one could understand him. I burst out laughing. I too, had had that same experience.

The last week upon me, it was time to say goodbye.

I informed my students that I would not be returning to school, and that I would not see them again. I lied and said my parents were ill and I needed to fly back to America. They absorbed the news in waves; first there was confusion, then they asked if I could come back after visiting my parents? This was followed by sadness, and then a beautiful string of farewells, wishing me Good luck, I will miss you teacher, Sa-rang-hae 사랑해 teacher.

My “most cherished class” was my final class of the week. Our lesson entailed mythical creatures with super powers. Some of them could imitate voices, some of them could paralyze their prey through hypnosis, some of them could adopt any form. My heart hurt during the entire lesson.

When I explained that I would not be returning to school, when I submitted my fabricated reason, Dom said, “Teacher, this is really sad.”

“I know,” I said, “I’m very sad.”

I went on to tell them that they are very smart, clever, and funny. I told them they will be successful in anything they pursue. I told them if I were with them in person, I would be handing out chocolate candies. I wished them good luck. I was winding down.

“Wait!” Dom cried out. “Umm…” he was stalling for time. He wanted to know more about hypnosis, so I swung an extra pair of earbuds like a chain, pretending to hypnotize him.

I was winding down again when Dom said, “Wait!” In a soft voice he said, “Will you keep in touch? Please keep in touch!”

I nodded, “I will keep in touch.”

“Ok.” He looked at me for awhile, then counted down, “One, two, three—”

I made the motion like a conductor when signalling the end to the orchestra. Fin.

With that, Dom’s face disappeared from my online classroom, and I was alone. All of my students had said goodbye, had typed farewell messages, had disconnected from our lesson. All of a sudden, it was over.

I wept.

I didn’t get to finish Term 2 as I had planned. The very thing I loved so much, had poured my entire heart into, had been ripped away. I didn’t understand. I still don’t understand.

I continued to live a cosmopolitan life in Bangkok, in a hotel with a rooftop pool with a view of the city, surrounded by upscale markets selling homemade, gluten-free bread. My students admired me for living a glamorous life, but all I could do was think about them.

This is What Love Looks Like

Andy’s backyard teeming with banana trees and gorgeous greenery; lovely chats with Pea in which he shared his dreams and ambitions. Precious Wan attending my class two times in a row. Dom participating in the final lesson shirtless, holding his phone outside in the shade. Oom saying “Sun-sang-nim 선생님, I will miss you!” and flashing me the “sa-rang-hae 사랑해” sign.

Fluke messaging me the vocabulary words spelled correctly, and typing “bak-su 박수” on his own behalf. This darling Fluke who insisted on always addressing me with my full name: “Good morning Ayoung Kim,” “An-young-ha-sae-yo 안영하세요 Ayoung Kim,” “I like you Ayoung Kim.”

I thought of my beautiful students living in that small town in the middle of nowhere. They don’t know that at the beginning and ending of each class, when I made them stand up, it wasn’t so they could pay respect to me, but so that I could pay respect to them. It was so I could say “Hello!” and “sa-rang-hae 사랑해” and “bak-su 박수”, because that’s what came bursting out of my heart. I was always loving them and applauding them.

Although I didn’t get to finish the term with them, I don’t have further regrets. I never cheated them, I never disrespected them. I was always lifting them up. My students have no idea how much they lifted me.