It's just after lunch on Wednesday (wan put) and my first free afternoon of the week. My first few days of school I've been treading water; teaching four to ten year olds basic numbers, the objects in the classroom, time and heads-shoulders-knees and toes.
Sticky notes and smiles have let me trip through my lessons with little planning. They struggle the most with pronouncing v (twelve is a particularly tricky one) but play along as I wander round the classroom buzzing v's or spitting out my th's. The first lesson with primary one and seven heads-shoulders-knees and toes later, I was exhausted. The warm air and look of angelic confusion on the children's faces as they sucked their rulers and twirled around in front of me. PeOm took pity and swept in to settle them with a lyrical concoction of Thai.
Every day begins at 7.30-45. The children assemble in the field at the front of the school, standing on the tufts of clumped grass, stretching their hands straight out between each other so that they're equally spaced, before chanting the Thai anthem as the Thai flag is raised by senior students. Bhuddist and Muslim prayers are said before each line of students bows to the two lines beside themselves, hands together, greeting them with "sawadeehkahhh".
By just past eight the children remove their shoes for the day outside the front of the school, and sit in two neat lines for their morning meditation. The younger students at the back over exaggerated their breathing; puffing their tummies out like puffins and sucking them back in slowly. The elder students are poised; the rest, straight backs, breathing calmly. The Director, PeKai reminds me that this is a lesson for life, everyone should take time to meditate and the teachers practice for themselves at home. Note to self: Must make time for meditation in the next eight weeks...somehow...
Lunch is early, at 11:30, but I'm usually hungry by then. The students queue for a circular tray filled with fish (usually two types or a curry and a soup) and rice. They can also buy snacks bought by the teachers to raise additional cash for the school. A pack of wafer strawberry straws is particularly popular, striped like a pole on a carosel, they munch through them without taking breath. There's also a snack shop at the front of the school where the children can buy ice-lollies and more wafers if they want. Sticky and full of sugar they race to their afternoon lessons but usually crash before the end of the day as it (slowly) wears off.
Some of the children grin with gapped mouths and rotted teeth, but they are taught to brush their teeth after lunch and on Tuesday the local dentist set up practice in the school hall, giving out filings and performing general routine hygiene.
The teachers sit in the air conditioned school hall for lunch. It's a small squared room with red tiled floors and a stage adorned with the popular thai gnomes; it's slightly creepy smile welcoming me up to the carpeted stage area. Old posters lined the walls filled with unrecognisable faces of past students. The Director proudly presents me with the log book of all the visitors. Although my Thai fails me, I can see that this is a treasured possession, not least because it contains an entry from a previous British Council ETA.
Having replenished my sticky notes once this week, my smile is the only thing that is starting to look a little jaded as my treasured tool of communication. At least the children, gappy-teethed and all, have enough smiles, sugar and energy to keep me bumbling along.
Sticky notes and smiles have let me trip through my lessons with little planning. They struggle the most with pronouncing v (twelve is a particularly tricky one) but play along as I wander round the classroom buzzing v's or spitting out my th's. The first lesson with primary one and seven heads-shoulders-knees and toes later, I was exhausted. The warm air and look of angelic confusion on the children's faces as they sucked their rulers and twirled around in front of me. PeOm took pity and swept in to settle them with a lyrical concoction of Thai.
Every day begins at 7.30-45. The children assemble in the field at the front of the school, standing on the tufts of clumped grass, stretching their hands straight out between each other so that they're equally spaced, before chanting the Thai anthem as the Thai flag is raised by senior students. Bhuddist and Muslim prayers are said before each line of students bows to the two lines beside themselves, hands together, greeting them with "sawadeehkahhh".
By just past eight the children remove their shoes for the day outside the front of the school, and sit in two neat lines for their morning meditation. The younger students at the back over exaggerated their breathing; puffing their tummies out like puffins and sucking them back in slowly. The elder students are poised; the rest, straight backs, breathing calmly. The Director, PeKai reminds me that this is a lesson for life, everyone should take time to meditate and the teachers practice for themselves at home. Note to self: Must make time for meditation in the next eight weeks...somehow...
Lunch is early, at 11:30, but I'm usually hungry by then. The students queue for a circular tray filled with fish (usually two types or a curry and a soup) and rice. They can also buy snacks bought by the teachers to raise additional cash for the school. A pack of wafer strawberry straws is particularly popular, striped like a pole on a carosel, they munch through them without taking breath. There's also a snack shop at the front of the school where the children can buy ice-lollies and more wafers if they want. Sticky and full of sugar they race to their afternoon lessons but usually crash before the end of the day as it (slowly) wears off.
Some of the children grin with gapped mouths and rotted teeth, but they are taught to brush their teeth after lunch and on Tuesday the local dentist set up practice in the school hall, giving out filings and performing general routine hygiene.
The teachers sit in the air conditioned school hall for lunch. It's a small squared room with red tiled floors and a stage adorned with the popular thai gnomes; it's slightly creepy smile welcoming me up to the carpeted stage area. Old posters lined the walls filled with unrecognisable faces of past students. The Director proudly presents me with the log book of all the visitors. Although my Thai fails me, I can see that this is a treasured possession, not least because it contains an entry from a previous British Council ETA.
Having replenished my sticky notes once this week, my smile is the only thing that is starting to look a little jaded as my treasured tool of communication. At least the children, gappy-teethed and all, have enough smiles, sugar and energy to keep me bumbling along.