You down with PCC? Yeah, you know me!

I am sitting in the "Wawee" coffee shop in Chiang Rai. And if you think "Wawee" looks like it is fun to say, you would be 100 percent correct. One of the fun young teachers at our school took Jessie and me into town today to do some shopping and aerobics (I will not be participating in aerobics, shockingly enough) and to sit and relax in her favorite cafe, complete with internet access! Coffee shops are fairly common in Chiang Rai, which is noted for its “café culture.”

Last night we attended a going away party for four teachers who are leaving Princess Chulabhorn's College, including two from our very own English department. The school rented out a large room (aptly named the "Music Room") in this fancy hotel in the city and the entire staff was treated to an excellent buffet. The music room had a karaoke machine and a dance floor, both of which were well-used throughout the night. Jessie and I were "strongly encouraged" to sing an American song for the party, so we kicked off with a rousing(ly awkward) rendition of "I Will Survive" and closed the night with "Que Sera, Sera." We were also enlisted as back-up dancers repeatedly, much to the amusement of the staff, it seemed. Oh and we were pulled onto the dance floor and taught some Thai dances, including once when I danced ALONE with a vice director of the school - Thai style. About two-thirds of the way through the song he took mercy on me and allowed me to exit. When P'Tip told us that we would be "on stage" at our schools, I did not realize how literally true that could be.

Welcome to my life as a farang.

Front of the school.

What you see when you walk out of our door.

Dorms.

Water and pretty stuff.

The most important places on campus: sports fields (i.e. tennis court) and the canteen.

Entrance to the school, with a banner honoring our most brilliant students.

Every day at roughly 6 a.m. a Thai song blares across campus, serving as a perky alarm for the students and staff. And when I say every day, I mean some days, because some days it does, and some days it doesn't. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to this variation, but I intend to search it out if possible. Anyway, I rouse myself and prepare for the day's routine. Around 6:45 or so, girlish cheers and shrieks crash into my room as the 7th, 8th and 9th grade girls who live in a dorm by our house march by my window to the canteen for breakfast. "Good morning, youthful merriment. LOUD, youthful merriment," I groggily think to myself.

Shortly before 7:30 a.m., Jessie and I walk to the main office together where we scan our fingers to clock in. If you are successful it says "pan kan" but if you fail, it snaps "mai pan kan" at you, and a finger with a frowny face for a fingerprint pops up. So you can add "you pass" and "you don't pass" to my burgeoning Thai vocabulary.

We make our way to the English department at PCC where we sit until first period, which begins at 8:40. At 7:45 or so, the morning assembly begins. Usually, it is held in the courtyard of the school and is led by three students, as the rest of the school stands outside their classrooms to listen. At some point the national anthem is "sung" (recited may be a better description), and we stop and stand, wherever we are. However, we have yet to discern the beginning words of the anthem and as such, always watch our co-teachers to figure out when we are supposed to stand, and abruptly stand up, always a few seconds late. This process is repeated at the end of the anthem. 

Every week I teach 14 different classes, for a total of 15 hours a week. Some days I teach for 50 minutes, some days I teach for 6 hours. The students stay in the same classes all day - the teachers go to them. Every class begins like this:

Lead student: Stand up please!

All students stand behind their desks with varying degrees of enthusiasm

Students, in unison: Good mawning (or aftanoon) teacha!

Kru Alison: Good morning class. Thank you, please sit down.

Then I go about my business, you know, teaching, making them repeat words endlessly whilst making funny faces to emphasize pronunciation and uttering hilarious phrases like "oh no!" Classes unwilling to participate are subjected to "Eeny, meeny, miney, mo" which is also a huge hit that prompts humorous parroting attempts. The students at PCC must pass exams before being admitted to the school as well as hold a minimum 3.0 GPA, so the students are smart, hard-working and motivated, on the whole. Out of my 300+ students, I can think of one or two that have any real attitude. Students who try to cop attitudes are typically singled out for solo pronunciation practice, which seems to quell the rancor on the spot while also sparking much laughter. They are great to teach, mostly, and I try to make things as fun as possible. When class ends we go through another ritual:

Student leader: Stand up please!

All students stand behind their desks, typically with more enthusiasm than is exhibited at the start of class, which I choose to interpret as a positive.

Class (in a distracted sort of unison): Thank you teacha. See you again ne(x)t time!

Kru Alison: Thank you, see you next week!

After 3rd or 4th period we go to the canteen for lunch. The teachers sit in a special room away from the students and serve their own food that is laid out, buffet style. On our walk we typically encounter students on their way to and from the canteen. Upon crossing a student's path, one of several things occurs.

1. They look down or at their friends to avoid having to speak English or face the awkward choice between the traditional wai and the American wave

2. They smile and wave and say "Hello Teacha!

3. They wai me, with the utmost respect

4. They look at me and say "Yo yo, teacha! What's up?" 

Number 1 is usually boys, number 2 girls and ladyboys, 3 is a mix of all and Number 4 is typically reserved for the boys. 

We sit in the office until 4:30 or so, when we walk back to our house. Dinner is served in the canteen from 5:00 to 6:30 or so. The special "teacher" room is not open, as few teachers eat dinner at the canteen, but we sit in a special area behind the serving tables, with an excellent view of the tennis courts. After putting rice on our plates, we walk up to the serving tables where the cooks heap food on our rice. They seem to get a kick out of Jessie and me, and are always trying to teach us the names of the meals, which we usually promptly forget. They also seem to be concerned about whether we are eating enough, and in an effort to reassure themselves, pile extra food onto our plates, regardless of our attempts to prevent this. They smile at us always and, sometimes they take pictures of us. A good time is had by all.

Every day from 5:00 to 6:00 activities, led by teachers, are held across campus for the students, ranging from knitting to shooting rifles to soccer. Tennis is on Tuesdays and Thursdays , and I started going last week. At first I seemed to be something of a spectacle, as students gathered at the fence to watch the farang play, and others hung out of windows from the canteen to check out my skills. I heard a lot of "psst psst Farang psst psst American psst psst serve." I think I have become less interesting as my audience seems to dwindle every day. But it's fun and a great way to stay active, so I enjoy it quite a bit.

After dinner we trek back to our house, which serves us quite well. Our "kitchen" has an electric kettle and a microwave, but not stove or oven. So it seems my already subpar cooking ability will only atrophy here. Alas. Canteen for life! 

On weekends we usually catch a ride into town with one of the teachers or via tuk-tuk. We have a tuk-tuk driver on call that we holla at if we want to go into town. I spend some time doing laundry at home typically, which is a time intensive process. I had my suspicions of this before I actually began doing laundry, which were quickly confirmed. When I ask teachers what they did over the weekend, they almost always say: "Stayed at home, washed my clothes." This hint alarmed me, and got me to thinking - an entire weekend? Washing clothes? This does not bode well. Let's just say that hand-washing my clothes has given me a much greater appreciation for the miraculous invention that is the washing machine. My technique will be honed over the course of the next few months, and I have already begun to fine-tune my approach. I hope I will be a master by the time I leave. Perhaps this skill will off-set what I am losing in the realm of domestication by not cooking for 12 months. Perhaps my dreams of housewifery are not yet lost. Perhaps.

So that's my routine. Riveting, no? Life is slower up here in the north, and for now, I am soaking it up and enjoying the down time. I find that I am already feeling more relaxed - a much needed change.

Anyway, til next time!

Ali