Old, old mystery.

I have been feeling rather inspired lately, the topic of interest being just this: memory. The truth is, I have hesitated in writing because I worry that my combinations of words and ideas couldn’t possibly portray the way in which this fascinating idea has played out in my own mind. But unfortunately, my head seems to be bursting at the seams, and I must write of it, before it’s too late.

I awoke one morning last week, my senses overflowing with the memory of something I once knew. I couldn’t place it instantly, but I soon realized I was ‘smelling’ (in whatever way the memory allows us to smell) the aroma of a Christmas blend of coffee. It was one that Kristin and I brewed enjoyably for a few weeks last winter. It was a moment thick with nostalgia. With it were brought recollections of fresh Ohio snows, hardwood floors, and paper birds that patterned our walls.

Not a few days later, I drank one too many cups of coffee (unfortunately, not a delightful Christmas blend) and needed a quick snack before Thai class. I ran down the street in hopes of a quick carbohydrate fix. I grabbed a pack of Ritz crackers in a hurry, not knowing I would be plunged once more into a distant place and time. Upon my first bite I remembered my mom; my beautiful, supportive mother, who I can sit hours upon hours with, laughing with, talking to, and apparently snacking alongside. I could hardly believe the accuracy in which I was recalling the details of time spent with her: my mother’s genuine laugh lingering in the air, her sincere outlooks spilling out for me, and the warmth of a perfect hug.

Since these moments, I have been thinking on the mind, and on memory. I have been thinking on how extraordinary it is that a sight, a bite, a sound, can generate such precious thoughts, hidden deep in a place undefined. I suppose I’ve always thought the mind to be quite logical and orderly, but lately it’s become a thing of great wonder and secrecy. And I am grateful for its pleasant interruptions. For the way that it reminds me of where I’ve been, what I’ve done, who I love.

And now I’m left marveling at what my memory might bring to me of my time spent in Thailand!

ไหว้

(This post title reads'The Wai'- pronounced 'why'. Why? Because I've been thinking perhaps I should let you in on that which is normal in this very different culture I am living in. The customs on this side of the planet are both bizarre and perhaps worth practicing. See for yourself!)

Greeting -verb: 1. to address with some form of salutation.

In North America we stretch out our hands and shake them up and down rather vigorously. (I'm beginning to think that Asian cultures must think this terribly odd.) In places such as Ecuador you learn to practice a simple kiss on the cheek (which I became rather fond of.) But here in Thailand, the greeting is both a salutation and a display of great respect.

To practice the wai one must place their hands in a prayer-like position, elbows in, thumbs close to the body, and accompany the gesture with a slight bow of the head- or a great bow of the head if the greeting is towards someone of high social stature (you must never forget to wai the grandparents of anyone you meet!) The various positions of the wai can express respect, authority, obedience, apologies, and happiness. It's a simple movement, yet deeply complex.

Ah, the greetings of the world.

Heart it races.

I woke up this morning to the sound of monkeys on my rooftop! It’s because I spent the weekend with our new teacher, Nicki, and my dear friends Tom and Sarah, in Khao Sok National Park- the largest Evergreen rainforest in the world- which lies 2 hours from our town. It felt like something from a children’s book, the way we spent our days discovering elephant tracks, searching for leopards (unfortunately, no luck), and keeping monkeys from breaking and entering. (Essentially, I should have obeyed the rules, because when a monkey caught me munching on crackers on the front porch he came right for me, and proceeded to shake the front door, and windows, in search of my treats.) I think this is what we call monkey business.

I must say, I never tire of the striking sights to see in this place, and I’m so often left speechless on my weekend getaways (undoubtedly, far from the city). The way the heavy rains quench the thirst of the trees, the outlandish calls of the wild (we were certain one of the bird calls was actually an alarm going off), and the means in which nature makes me feel so connected, and indeed so small, will forever mystify me.

. . . to find tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
(Shakespeare)

Little flowers that you have sewn...

I have taken another hiatus in writing, and that just isn’t fair. Please forgive me!! I promise to be more diligent in these coming weeks (as I always do, I guess). But you see, I’ve taken to hermit-ing a bit, and thus will spend a bit more time writing. You’ll be feeling the brunt of it. The trouble is finding the time to blog in between real life journaling- the writing that is with my hand! It’s like being in two places at one time. Alas, I must gather my thoughts!

Yesterday I celebrated my 7 month anniversary in Thailand. I have to admit- it was the first anniversary (I find myself always counting) in which I became rather sad in realizing that I am indeed climbing down the ladder of my time here. Thailand has become my home, these fellow teachers of English and Thai natives have become my community. I cannot imagine a day without them. (Sigh.) It’s incredible the way in which strange things become familiar, and unfamiliar people become family. (Another sigh.)



So- I’d like to let you in on my life in teaching. It’s something I’ve never actually blogged about in detail- yet it’s what I’m constantly doing. So, take a seat, and lend me your eyes.

In all honesty, the Thai Education System is nowhere near perfect. Most classrooms lack creativity and resources (and air conditioning). Thai kids have no idea how to write essays, nor really think for themselves. “Copy” is within every child’s English vocabulary. It’s disheartening for those of us who have been graced with a challenging and rather innovative education. Does it sound harsh? It might- but it’s what I’ve found in the time I’ve lived here. Such is teaching in a place that is not the Western world. As my father likes to remind me, “Hil, you’re not in Kansas anymore.” It’s true. Apparently I’m in Asia.

Thankfully the Language School I work for allows us a great deal of freedom- and the after school classes are chock full of creativity and ingenuity, if I do say so myself (for those of us teachers who are on our high horses.) But the high schools we contract out to are a different story altogether. There are typically a few ‘farang’, or foreign teachers, at these schools. And at both of the high schools we teach the beginner levels. Again, it becomes a rather discouraging situation because these students go on to have Thai teachers teaching them English in their upper level classes. Essentially, most of what we teach will be unraveled within the next several years. The broken English we seek to correct will be taught to them in the future. If this isn’t a dilemma, I’m not sure what is.



In thinking this way I have found myself defeated many a time. But I’m often reminded of a quotation (come on, are you surprised?). Someone once said something like this, “A student may never remember what you taught them, but they will remember how you made them feel.” I have found my teaching philosophy in this. I strive to teach my students exceptional English skills, and challenge them in it, but more importantly, I hope to make them feel valuable and significant. Knowledge is powerful, but perhaps confidence and value in one’s self is much more so.