Breathing in breathing out.: Week One in HIgh School.

Week one in High School.

     The temptation to think I know anything is challenged daily if not more often as I climb the work mountain in my new settings. Concepts like learning, teaching, curriculum, timetable, are evolving as I spend time at the school to which I am assigned. And as one who idealizes new situations and then has the scales fall sadly from my eyes there is pain attached.
I would have thought that I would have learned by now.
     Music teacher Thum collectes me each morning for the 7 or so Ks to the school. There is an assembly at 8.00;"8" being broadly interpreted. On the first morning the Principal addressed the 800 students and 40 staff until the trees around the playground almost wilted. He also took a call on his mobile during the address. Then led by two peers the students sing the national anthem, raise the flag and acknowledge the Buddah. The daily commencement ceremony typifies the paradoxes of respect and formalism in this culture, as I see it. The boss and staff wear a kind of paramilitary uniform on Mondays. Students respect teachers by joining hands and bowing to teachers in the Thai Wai fashion. But when the Director or another teacher speaks students or staff do not necessarily listen.   It reminds me of Catholics blessing themselves with holy water entering a church yarning or gossiping the while to a neighbour.

        My job is to support or assist the teacher in a variable percentage of classroom time and pace, that is varying from 20% to 100% depending on the preparedness of the teacher, their shyness speaking in front of me and what they can wind me up and get me to do.
        All that said the staff and students are friendly and want to talk or see that I have had breakfast or lunch or take me to their village for lunch. The Deputy frequently visits my desk to chat and I imagine polish his English.
        As my mate Roger pointed out after his experiences in Indonesia, I have two disadvantages relating to the school community. I am a ferang (foreigner) and I am old. The former hangs on the Asian common belief that someone from outside knows more, after all they must because we have such a high standard of living. Bugger the quality of life business. Secondly unlike Australia and other "developed" nations there is respect for older people who are seen to have born the heat and burden of the day and to have stacked up some knowledge or wisdom. And the younger you are in a household around here the more you do what you are told and collect menial jobs.
The timetable has me down for two to three appearances with streams of forms 4,5 and 6 of the senior school. Most of the time has been spent getting them to tell me about their lives and Isaan itself. I figured that if they could talk about what is familiar to them in groups and report to me that would do the trick. Slowly, slowly, slowly. But we have laughed a lot, which is great. Jayne once suggested I needed smiling lessons. Well the Land of Smiles as Siam is called is an ideal place to learn.
   I spent the orientation day while teachers and students prepared for the semester, doing eye tests with Jack, my boss at a primary school nearby. The tests sort out young children with reading difficulties for further testing and possibly for glasses. Before this programme almost no children wore glasses.
       The Loy Krathong festival involves floating Krathongs, floating offerings which are mostly quite beautiful arrangements of flowers and candles on the Mekong. It is meant as an apology for the bad treatment of the river during the previous year. Clippings of a fingernail and hair are supposed to accompany the floating offering. As usual there is the suggestion of gaining good luck by performing the rituals. (This is my quick and dirty explanation of the events.) It is a big family deal with much fun and laughter. Lately there is new thinking that the offerings in fact add to the problems the river suffers. It is also an evening to light lanterns which decorate the sky sculpted by the wind.
   On Saturday a bit of blessed retail therapy; there is a market on the banks of the river with all manner of goods from Laos brought by boats across the Mekong. We bought some food, a flashing light for my bike and a black plastic pot or a plant which I intended as waste paper basket, but later bought a woven cane one which is much more elegant.
      On the Sunday I wimped out of a visit to deliver disposable nappies and some food to three families with disabled children. I had had enough of sadness for a while. And in the afternoon went for a swim. Oh how blessed to be in water. There is a nearby private school which lets people use its pool at times. I will be back there.
        So week one was over and no doubt familiarity will grow and awkward newness fade a little.