"BIG fish. Small fish. Star fish" I shout from the front of Primary One's classroom, jumping into a star shape at the end. They explode with excitement jumping everywhere until all 27 of them are at the front of the classroom jabbering something that sounds more like scar-pit than star fish.
Everyone's cottoned on to it being my last week now, which brings a mix of better behaviour from the students and uncontainable excitement as they all want to have their hello's and goodbye's acknowledged. Times that by 180 students and my days are a whirlwind of not really knowing who is coming and going.
After lunch I was flagging. Two escapee students wandered past my open window next to my desk. "Sabaidee mai?" (How are you?) they chant. "Sabaideekaa" (I'm fine) I say in my best Thai accent. It's obviously convincing enough as they go on: "Teacher Lizzie kii, mai?". Absolutely no idea. "Ka", I say, my fullproof affirmative response to most questions I've had knowing that if I'm completely missing the point the laughter that follows lets me know I've failed my basic two month Thai language induction. They don't laugh. Their smiles drop. Not the greatest reaction and before I know it they have run off to shouts from their friend.
Ki, it turns out, actually means sick. The dark bags under my eyes from long days of teaching and evenings of whizzing around planning and meeting Thai friends has caught up and punched me in the face. The white farang now accessorising with dark black circles to remind me that the last nine exhilirating weeks have been knackering as well.
Slightly defeated I head back home to a waiting crowd of teachers, who have all pitched in to make my favourite spicy cucumber salad, salty stir fried veg and prawn and coconut curry. They give me a picture as a parting gift of all the memories I've shared with my host family. A mixture of one too many long days and the overwhelming kindness wells up inside; before I know it tears and silently streaming down my face. The land of smiles doesn't cope well with tears, so I wipe them away blaming the chilli and feeling guilty that I can't conjure up much more than a loud korp kun kaa (thank you) to thank them for everything.
Everyone's cottoned on to it being my last week now, which brings a mix of better behaviour from the students and uncontainable excitement as they all want to have their hello's and goodbye's acknowledged. Times that by 180 students and my days are a whirlwind of not really knowing who is coming and going.
After lunch I was flagging. Two escapee students wandered past my open window next to my desk. "Sabaidee mai?" (How are you?) they chant. "Sabaideekaa" (I'm fine) I say in my best Thai accent. It's obviously convincing enough as they go on: "Teacher Lizzie kii, mai?". Absolutely no idea. "Ka", I say, my fullproof affirmative response to most questions I've had knowing that if I'm completely missing the point the laughter that follows lets me know I've failed my basic two month Thai language induction. They don't laugh. Their smiles drop. Not the greatest reaction and before I know it they have run off to shouts from their friend.
Ki, it turns out, actually means sick. The dark bags under my eyes from long days of teaching and evenings of whizzing around planning and meeting Thai friends has caught up and punched me in the face. The white farang now accessorising with dark black circles to remind me that the last nine exhilirating weeks have been knackering as well.
Slightly defeated I head back home to a waiting crowd of teachers, who have all pitched in to make my favourite spicy cucumber salad, salty stir fried veg and prawn and coconut curry. They give me a picture as a parting gift of all the memories I've shared with my host family. A mixture of one too many long days and the overwhelming kindness wells up inside; before I know it tears and silently streaming down my face. The land of smiles doesn't cope well with tears, so I wipe them away blaming the chilli and feeling guilty that I can't conjure up much more than a loud korp kun kaa (thank you) to thank them for everything.