First day of school

Oh man. Oh man. There is so much to say, and it’s only 9:30. 

First of all, this is so surreal that I feel like I’ve been watching it happen from a distance rather than being a participant. My room is decorated, but otherwise empty. Someone brought me a stack of meticulously printed hall passes this morning, and I thought, “Oh yeah… passes… what else don’t I have? Why can’t I remember what I had in my desk before?” I can’t even think of what I need. I have a pair of scissors, one glue stick, and some poster tack that I borrowed from other teachers. I have a stapler and a roll of paper towels that I bought myself. And that’s it. I’m in a straight-up daze. I guess I’ve been in this game long enough to know exactly what I’m doing when the curtain goes up (this is my 18^th year, yikes!), so whatever happens, happens. Yeah, I’m going to go with that. I will literally improvise every minute of the next two days.

My schedule is nuts: Four classes, with two prep periods per day, plus a mid-morning break and a 45-minute lunch. On Mondays and Fridays I have three prep periods per day. With four different classes to teach, I will use that time for sure, but I’ll never need to take work home. Funny story: I was lamenting to Nick that I hadn’t gotten any class rosters yet, so I didn’t know who I have or how big the classes are. The only lists I’d seen were the rosters for each grade level. Then it dawned on me… Those ARE my class rosters. For my 6^th grade science class, I have the entire 6^th grade, and so on. And the biggest class is 15 kids. My brain is like, “boi-oi-oi-oi-oiiinnngg.” Dazed. 

When we got here this morning—and by the way, I set my alarm for 6:15, which is the time we used to leave the house back home; and it took us 7 minutes to get here—we took the girls to their classes, which were still empty because we were so early. I love the school uniforms. Sophie has been running around this school like she owns it for two weeks now, but today? In her smart little uniform? Perfectly behaved. Sascha is obsessed with hers. A couple of nights ago we were riding my bike around town and she kept pointing out kids in their school uniforms. Ahh, our little Lisa Simpson. After I write this I’m going to go downstairs and spy on her. What a luxury!

So far I’ve only had my homeroom. Mine is 8^th grade (entire class: 11 kids). We had an extra-long HR today so the kids could get their textbooks. We started with an all-school flag ceremony outside. With only 200 students from K-12, our director didn’t even need a microphone to speak to everyone. They played the national anthem and raised the Thai flag, and I could hear some of the younger kids singing along while I tried not to squeal from the cuteness. 

During homeroom, I had the kids introduce themselves, mainly to kill time (they all know each other). I started with myself. When I told them that their new English teacher is my husband, they went “ahhh” and applauded! Oh my god it was the trippiest, funniest, cutest thing to happen all day, which is saying a lot. They call us “Teacher,” so when they call me I don’t hear them. Not until they’re saying it for the 15^th time and they’re all giggling, I finally snap out of it and realize what’s happening. That will take some getting used to! I told them to feel free to laugh at the clueless farang teacher, because I always think it’s funny.

I think I was expecting little angels in perfectly trained lockstep, but they are still regular teenagers. They talked over each other when reading their introductions, the boys teased each other, they all took out their phones when we were finished. However, they are very respectful. One kid said “thank you, Teacher” when he left the room, which I only remember happening maybe two other times in my 17-year career, and I hadn’t even done anything! We were told that giggling girls were the worst problem we would ever see, and that there had been one physical fight here in all five years of the school’s existence. I think we had one or two fights a week back home! This is truly 180 degrees from my last job, and for the record, I loved that job. And I loved most of my students with their foul mouths and tattoos and serious, horrible problems (no sarcasm there, our kids saw things most people don’t experience in a lifetime, at least not in the US—so much death, illness, abuse, drugs, shocking dysfunction). But this is like a happy Twilight Zone. I keep wondering what the catch is. 

A few quick random notes before I go: 

I’m typing this in Word before I publish it, and the ruler at the top & side of my screen is in centimeters. I actually have to get my computer adjusted because a lot of the internet stuff is in Thai, like all of the wizards and right-click options. 

The Buddhist calendar is used here quite often. So the date in the corner of my computer screen right now says 13/8/2558. We had a jug of milk with a 3.8.58 expiration date on it. It’s very cool, but I did many double takes before getting used to it. 

One of the teachers here is a first cousin of Howard Jones (‘80s British pop star). All the 40-something women reading this will remember Howard Jones and maybe have a dusty little squeal in the recesses of their minds. Isn’t that fun?

The majority of the Asian students have long Asian names, and then a nickname. Some of the nicknames make sense; they’re shortened versions of their names. But some of them are downright amusing. We have Rifle, Stamp, Most, Boy, Brass, Monday, Punch, Mail, Film, Milk, and Great, to name a few. Take note, American celebrities. Rifle Punch Lohan has a nice ring to it.
  

I’m writing this last part later in the day, so now I’ve had a few classes. My students are great so far. There are a few big personalities, some jokesters. They all seem to be noticeably self-reliant. I think I’m going to have a lot of fun. I’m glad I switched all of my Power Points over years ago to a less text-y format (go Google Presentation Zen, it’ll change everything for you if you ever have to make Power Points) so it will be way easier to adjust to the different levels of English. We’ve also had lunch, during which I saw Sascha holding hands with two other girls from her class. Score.

I wrote this next part the next day: Another great day. I have somehow snapped out of yesterday's daze and now I'm on top of my game: cleaned up my desk, made up a long to-do list and started banging it out. The difficulties are starting to present themselves, like the vastly different levels of English language abilities in each class, and facing the task of creating mostly new lessons for four different subjects, but still... After our first class this morning, Nick and I both walked out of our classrooms and shot each other the same "can you believe this?" sh*t-eating grin. We walk into a room and the kids all say good morning. And did I mention the ridiculous view from our classrooms? Gorgeous steep mountains, covered in jungle and most of the time topped with fuzzy clouds. There's a temple or two on a few hillsides, which shine like jewelry when the sun is out, and from the end of our hall we can see a giant Buddha statue in the distance. I will never get tired of that view. After school yesterday, the four of us piled into the car (we're not riding bikes yet, but we'll get there), drove home, and peeled off our sweaty clothes. Even Sophie wanted a shower, and she hates showers. My feet hurt all the way to my knees from the stupid high heels I wore. I love the way they look, but man do I hate heels. After I showered I soaked my feet in our fountain until the afternoon thunderstorm started. We went and did a little shopping, then found the best western food we've had in a month! It's not cheap, but it was damn good. Burgers! Mac and cheese! Ale instead of lager! We all blabbed about our day (oh, there were still electronic devices at the table, it may sound good but we're still C-student parents), came home and crashed hard. And speaking of being a C student, I need to go plan some lessons. I should have been working on this for weeks but of course I waited around until the last minute. This, for me, is one of the hardest parts of the job. I can't just phone it in and open the textbook, I have to make each lesson great and enriching and entertaining and full-- for MYSELF. Ughhh. So off I go. Yesterday I had my traditional end-of-day-one thought. No matter how great the job is, no matter how happy and fulfilled I am, I always think... One down. 179 more to go.