A day in the life... at Thidamaepra

This was originally written for the Super English website, www.superenglishsurat.com.

I am not a morning person. When my alarm clock goes off at 7 my first thought is inevitably of the snooze button. This gives me 5 more minutes until the clock rudely interrupt whatever path of thoughts I have gone down, which most of the time is figuring out exactly when the next time I can get back to bed for a longer sleep is. In the states what got me out of bed was the knowledge that a hot cup of coffee and a shower were only a few minutes away. Here those to things have been unceremoniously replaced with a bucket shower, and iced coffee which is approximately one half instant coffee, a quarter creamer, and a quarter sugar (This actually isn’t so bad, bucket showers are surprisingly refreshing and more effective than I would have expected). The alarm clock time is the darkest part of my day. I tell you this, not to scare away other morning people, but rather because from this point on the day tends to improve pretty consistently.

My day begins at New Thida, the home for Anubans (kindergarten), and Ps 1 and 2. The students range from age 5 to 7, this means that these kids represent some of the highest concentration of cute in the world. I usually roll into the parking lot around 8:00 with some breakfast in hand (usually sticky rice with sweet shredded pork on it from a roadside stand on my street) and the fore mentioned iced coffee. I settle in to my seat, take a breath and begin to eat and drink, only to have my revelry disturbed when Tristan, the highly experienced teacher across from me, abruptly stands up at attention. The King’s song has begun playing. I leap out of my chair and spin into position facing the flag and the hundreds of children gathered in the center of the school. The song itself was written by the King (or so I am told. Apparently he is an extremely talented jazz musician), and is a catchy, short song that all of the children sing in that spectacularly off key way that only a few hundred 5-7 year old children can achieve. It is endearing to say the least. The flag is raised during this, and if you are particularly lucky, than it is Exercise Wednesday, and once the song has been sung upbeat music is played and the Thai teachers lead the children in a bizarre calisthenics routine. Many of teachers are about as involved as a high school senior a week after they have been accepted into college, half raising their arms, and looking as though they are mentally closer to my home than the school. A few though are really into it, pumping their arms exaggerating their leg kicks and generally rocking out in a way that seems to elevate the involvement of the children around them. This makes for quite a spectacle, and usually does an excellent job of driving away the last remnants of the alarm clock hangover. Soon the calm down music is played and the kids line up and find their way to their respective classrooms, which means I need to finish eating and get myself to class.

            I am the Clark Kent of super teachers, I teach the “regular” classes, meaning that rather than seeing kids on a daily basis, I see my classes once a week for one hour. At fifty kids a class and twenty classes a week I see roughly a thousand children every week. No two days of the week are the same, I have mix of grades that I see, and a definitely a mix of kids. It’s a great way of being kept on your toes, walking to every class you are trying to remember whether this is the class where by minute 40 only one kid is paying attention (the same kid every week) or whether it’s the one where the Thai teacher has managed to corral them sufficiently that you can actually accomplish a full lesson plan. Lesson planning is easier as a regular teacher, I have wide spread of classes, P1, P2, P3, P5 and P6, but really I only need one lesson plan for each of these levels. There a couple classes that have distinguished themselves as either spectacular and needing a more challenging plan, or, shall we say, less advanced and in need of a more basic plan. But for the most part, only one plan is needed for each grade level.

Entering the class room is bizarre experience, about half way between the door and the desk on the far side of the classroom the kids will notice you have arrived and one small voice will belt out, “SA-TAND UUUP, PLEEEASE” and the entire class stands, “Gooood morning, TEAAcher”, to which the proper reply is, “Good morning class, how are you?”, and they will say “We are HAPPY, YAAAY, and you?” and you tell them you are fine and that they may sit down. If you “forget” to tell them to sit and just start teaching than in a few minutes you will be surprised to find them all still on their feet. Whoops. A fifty minute class is short enough so that you only need 2-3 sections, less if there are extended games, so planning for the classes does not present any significant challenge. The difficulty comes in holding their attention for more than 5 minutes at a time. This challenge varies significantly based on two factors, the class, and the Thai teacher. A good class can be good independent of the teacher, but these are exceedingly rare. A good Thai teacher means that the class will at the very least be minimally disruptive if not focused. I have some teachers whose presence is enough to silence the most rambunctious classes, and others that actually contribute to the problem by plopping down in the back of the class and either doing their own work or even actually talking to kids while you try to teach. Sometimes all you can do is find the 5 kids who are interested and teach to them.

            After two classes there is a half hour break which is usually spent in half dazed conversation with a couple other teachers as you try to regain some of the energy that it takes to engage fifty, 7 year olds. The good news at this point is that there is only one more class before lunch. Lunch is free, and varies in quality, but usually provides something that is at least edible, if not enjoyable. This is a fun time of day, because many of the super teachers have this same time off for lunch, and all congregate at one table. It is time for a word about the structure of New Thida. It was built much like a Mario Kart64 battle stage, the so called “Donut”. On this stage there was a circular track on the outside where the players were safe, except from each other, but in the middle is a pit filled with lava. New Thida has 5 floors, each shaped much like this stage, a path surrounding the center of school, which is a vast open space. It is so vast and open that walking across it seems to initiate some long buried evolutionary instinct that makes you a little nervous. Its like you are at the bottom of a ravine with no hiding spaces for you, but plenty for your predators. During class it is like a ravine, after lunch, it is much more like the lava pit. The children are loose and going crazy from an influx of sugar and you are faced with a choice, the relative safety of the outer path, or the most direct route of walking straight across and being pinched, poked, high fived, aggressively hugged and pulled in every direction by hundreds of children ravenous for your attention. Personally, when the pit is filled I enjoy walking through it, it provides quick but fun interactions with many of the kids, and it’s relatively rare that one of them will either straight up kick you, or grab your butt. But make no mistake; the post lunch pit is no place for the meek.

 For the lucky few that have no class in the next block they get to drift across the street and get an iced coffee or tea (for 15 baht, it is probably the best iced coffee bang for your baht in town). It’s a pleasant break from being in the schools and is generally very relaxing. Also, if you couldn’t eat the school lunch for some reason than they serve an excellent fried rice here as well. Typically there is at least some free time after lunch, whether you have a class or not, and at this time I am typically either scrambling to fix lesson plans that clearly weren’t working earlier in the day, or if I am lucky relaxing and checking the various sports scores that were happened while I was teaching that morning. The break inevitably ends, and my next class is at Old Thida. If New Thida is like the “Donut” level of Mario Kart, than Old Thida is more comparable to the “Block World” one, where there are 4 different large platforms, each with three levels, and small tracks connecting them at the top. Each grade has its own hallway, and each hallway has its own floor, and each floor has at least 16 stair cases that, much like Hogwarts, take you to a completely different part of the school than you started in. Ok, maybe the stairways are exaggeration, but when you aren’t used to the school, or are going to a classroom you have never been to before than the layout seems like it was designed to keep grave robbers away from the Pharaoh’s tomb. This also means that it is approximately as non-handicap friendly as it can possibly be, I have spent chunks of time trying to figure out how to make it less handicap accessible and couldn’t think of any, maybe more random 4 inch drops in the floor, but there are already enough of these. All of the class rooms are very open on two sides; one wall is windows, and the opposite wall is fully open to the hallway. I’m told this design element is featured because of the crazy hot weather which happens most of the year, though it serves a duel purpose of allowing as much noise to enter the classroom as possible. In the worst situations the windows are facing the street and the doors the center of the school, so that many days you have traffic noise flowing in from one side, and the pleasant sounds of a school assembly, or a raucous gym class on the other. This leads to you have to speak at your loudest, or, if you will, scream in order to be heard. Classrooms like this however are the minority, even if they are the very loud minority. Most of them have reasonable acoustics and don’t leave you hoarse and tired.

Old Thida is also host to a very different age group, P3 all the way to M6’s, the seniors of the Thai school world. Thus it requires a very different kind of energy than New Thida. With these kids it helps to occasionally walk out into the rows of desks and put kids on the spot, with simple questions about what you were just going over. This has two benefits, first it gives you a decent idea of how many kids are actually understanding/ paying attention, and second nothing really pulls the focus of the rest of the class quite like the possibility that they could be called on next. Inevitably, about 10 minutes into any class the students will start raising their hands to say, or perhaps just shouting out, “Teacher, play game, play game!” To which I usually respond by having them repeat it, “Teacher, may we play a game please?” than considering it for a brief second before either saying, “no”, or telling them if they do well in class than we can play at the end. Their favorite game, by far, is 7-up; a game that I honestly believe they could play for a full school day with out getting bored. At the end of class it is often important to have them do some writing that deals with the lesson rather than having them play a game since they will not being seeing me, or likely thinking about what we learned that day for seven more days having it in their own writing is a good way to cement it in their heads.

By the time the last class ends, 3:30 at the latest, I am usually quite ready to dash for my bike and start pedaling. Most days I swing buy a stand on the way home where a very nice and sociable Thai woman named Nok makes various drinks, the best of which is a mixed fruit shake. No matter how stressful, frustrating, or delightful and surprising the classes were that day there is nothing quite like a fresh fruit smoothie for .60 cents to remind me of some of the most basic charms of living in Surat Thani. 

Paradise, for a dollar a night

            A couple of weeks ago the school I teach at had mid-terms, which meant that I had Thursday and Friday off. Despite the fact that the days we don’t work we don’t get payed for, and as we have an entire month coming up filled with those days I chose to view this as an opportunity rather than an “oh crap”. Granted, its not difficult to convince yourself to look favorably on a long weekend in the short term. I wanted to go do something interesting, relaxing, and away from hoards of people, preferably some place I could camp. I started asking around, getting various suggestions, but the best suggestion I received came from the owner of a local bar, Ang Thong National Marine Park. This is a string of islands near the well known destinations of Koh Samui and Koh Panang, and while the park is frequented by tour boats for day trips, it is rarely an overnight destination. Once I started telling people I was planning on going I started hearing more and more good things about this spot, and started to get more excited and gain higher expectations.

            The boats for the island leave once a day around 8am from either Samui or Koh Pangang. This presents a slight problem that I had to get to an island that was 5 hour ferry ride by that time, but luckily the ferry system provides and excellent and only mildly inconvenient solution, the night boat. The night boat leaves Surat Thani at 11pm and gets to the islands between 5 and 6am. On weekends, or the nights before a Full Moon Party (I’ll talk about one of these later) the night boat is sometimes synonymous with party boat, but on a Wednesday evening it was a pretty laidback affair, no fighting for position on the mats, and no tourists attempting to be constantly drinking for 48 hours. Side note for tourists: Just because you are on vacation it does not make it appropriate to walk around a town stumbling drunk and shirtless. The night boat doesn’t provide a good nights sleep, but it does make the ride slip by when you are in and out of consciousness. Usually you are arriving (and waking up) shortly after the sunrise and the world is soaked with that beautiful light that only exists for an hour or so a day. Buying the ticket to the Park was easy, as was killing a couple hours eating breakfast and trying not to fall asleep in a restaurant. The boat to Ang Thong was one of the few times I have been cold in Thailand, but this was as much due to the movement of the wind as it was to the on and off rain that was falling. I ended up listening to all of Revolver, which sped things along nicely.

            By the time we came into view of the islands the rain had become fairly constant, though not heavy. We got off the boat on an island that is famous for having a large lagoon in the middle of it. It looked somewhat like a movie volcano top, tall walls surrounding the hole in the middle. There is a small hike up stairs to get over said walls, which was mildly precarious due to the rain making it a little slippery, but only about a 3 on the danger scale (1 being lying in bed on a mild day, 10 being a Jets fan in one of my classes last Monday). The lagoon was beautiful and lived up to its name, the emerald lagoon, the water was a deep green and it was surrounded by lush jungle. When I had had my fill of looking down at it, something that happened rather quicker than it might have to the press of overweight and shirtless tourists that were beginning to fill the view platform, I walked down to the water. I wasn’t certain what to expect, I suppose I thought the water would be cloudy, and I might see a small, boring fish or two, but this is what I should have expected if I were going to a lake in central Maine, not to a lagoon on an island off the coast of Thailand. The water was crystal clear and teeming with life. Sea Urchins sporting huge spines dotted the rocks, dozens of small fish were darting around, an intimidating large fish strolled out from under some rocks and swam under the plat form I was standing on just as a beautiful, multi colored sting ray glided in from deeper waters. I was taken aback. It turns out the Emerald Lagoon was created by a massive sink hole collapsing, and while it looks to be completely land locked it is apparently connected to the ocean by an underwater cave, making it possible for the wide array of sea life to make its way in.

            The stop at this island was actually fairly short, only an hour or so and we were getting back on the boat and having lunch, a good but unremarkable masaman curry. The next stop, was the last of the day for me, as it was on the island that I was planning on camping on. This island has three natural attractions, a long, fine sand beach, a limestone cave, and a hike up to a spectacular view point. They offer some snorkeling equipment, but after trying it out for a few minutes I found this to be pretty boring, there was no coral or exciting fish, only clear water, white sand, and some seaweed. I decided to check out the cave. It is a short hike up to the cave but a fairly steep one and enough of a challenge that the people that were trying it in flip flops or bare feet usually turned around pretty quickly. The hike was made more interesting by the rain having turned any dirt into slippery mud, and any rock into a very short water slide. But, the hike was short and simple enough that it wasn’t really a problem. The cave was interesting, but not mind blowing. The stalactites and stalagmites had some crazy shapes and patterns, but frankly, it seems like caves the world over are pretty similar. This one was a bit nicer because it was quite open allowing a good amount of natural light to illuminate it. The way back down the trail was actually a little easier than the way up because of a rope that ran along most of the trail as a means of supporting yourself down the steeper, and currently more slippery, sections.

            By the time I got back the boats were starting to leave and the rain seemed to have finished for the day, so I went to see the ranger to talk about where the best place to pitch my tent would be, and to pay for my over night stay. He let me pick the driest spot I could find, and charged me 30 baht for the night, or the equivalent of one American dollar. Pretty good deal for a spot in paradise. By 3:00 the island was almost completely empty, with only the rangers, maybe five other tourists and me. I took a walk on the beach and around 5:00 I started eyeing the hike up to the view point, which was closed due to the rain. I looked at the sign, and found it was only a 500 meter hike, “chump change” I thought, “It must only be closed to out of shape and aging tourists, not to a spritely young lad like myself!” and so after setting up my tent I popped on my hiking boots and took off. There are four view points, at 100 meters, 200m, 300m, and one at the very top. This was another trail that had a rope provided for assistance in getting up and down it, and as it turns out it was needed. What I had neglected to notice on the sign was that despite being only a 500m hike, it was 262m vertical as well, meaning that for every two meters forward, I went one meter up. This would be tiring on a normal day, with out a doubt, but the days rain had added a bit of a thrill to the whole process. The views were amazing, getting more impressive at every landing, and being in the jungle always provides something interesting, and this day it was monkeys. Dusky Langurs to be specific. At the second scenic overlook I was surprised to find one sitting on a branch only five feet from me, calmly eating leaves and occasionally looking over its shoulder at me. These Langurs are most recognizable by the white rings around there eyes which give them a very intelligent look. It is amazing how much adding emphasis to the eyes can make any creature or drawing look significantly more intelligent. After soaking in the monkey’s company I started back up the trail, and began thinking about how amazing the sunset would be from the top.

About half-way between the third view spot and the top I heard a sound that made my heart stop mid-beat. A baby’s cry. I froze, and couldn’t believe it. I knew there was no one else on the trail, and even if there had been, no parent would bring there child on this hike, especially not with its slippery state. Slowly I started, I must have heard some strange bird and mistaken it for the cry of an infant, but only a few steps later I heard it again. Loud and clear, a single wail, clearly from a baby, clearly somewhere off in the jungle. I was torn, I knew it would be crazy to just plunge into the jungle on a mountain where I was likely to fall, be knocked into a coma and slowly die as search parties wandered only a few feet from where I was lying, but on the other hand, there was a freaking baby out there. I started off the trail when I heard it again, and realized that something was a little strange about it. How often had I heard a baby give one cry at sporadic intervals rather than a steady and sustained cry, “My god, it must be hurt or weak!” I take another couple steps off the trail trying to be quiet to hear the call and find the direction it was coming from, and thinking that it was f***ing crazy. I heard the cry again, and than a sound that made me laugh with relief, a hooting monkey. I was hearing a baby, but I was hearing a baby monkey, not a baby human. I breathed and looked around and sure enough not far away was a tree with four or five monkey’s hanging out and keeping an eye on me. Relieved, I took the few steps back to the trail and starting walking, “either that was a baby monkey, or that’s a baby that’s about to be raised by monkeys.” Either way I felt it was a situation that did not require my further attention.

The top was stunning. The view easily took my breath away and left me standing there open mouthed. Islands, at least a dozen, stretched out into the ocean, disappearing into the haze shimmering on the water. It was truly spectacular, and very worth the ball busting hike it took to get there. As I was standing there, soaking in the evening light I was surprised once again by a monkey. This time it emerged out of the bushes behind me stood, perhaps 10 feet away staring at me. A rather haunting thing given the wise aura that the white rings around its eyes gave it, and after ten or fifteen seconds it turned and moved past the “No entry” sign, and left my site. I was still processing what had just happened when the monkey popped back up 10 feet further up the mountain and again turned to stare at me. Again it disappeared and again it popped up and stared at me only a few feet farther up the mountain. I am not a big believer in signs, but this was quite bizarre. The strange behavior of the monkey, combined with my desire to ignore the “no entry” sign and climb higher meant that there was really only way to interpret this, I should follow the monkey. 

So follow I did, and it was immediately apparent why the did not want travelers going up the way. The rocks were sharp and there were many sudden dips and drops and if you tilted and fell to your right you would end up with a good long time to make some peace with the world before crashing into the forest below. I climbed for about five more minutes until I came to a spot that I might have been able to pass if I had been well versed in parquet, and stopped. The monkey wasn’t there waiting to deliver some life message to me, but there was gold. Not coinage or jewelry but an entire island of it. One of the islands had a large, bare cliff facing west; the light of the setting sun had fully caught it while I was climbing. I was told when I was younger that the hour before sunset was called the golden hour for photographers, because the light was so soft and so unique that it produced some of the best pictures possible. This was the golden hour.

As I sat enjoying the sunset, it dawned on me that the sun was setting. In addition to being beautiful, it also meant that the spectacular light it was providing was fading quickly, and this meant that in addition to having repel myself down the incredibly rocky water slide I had just climbed, I was going to have to do much of it in the dark. Goody. I started down, got back to the viewing platform and began down the actual trail. In many ways going down was easier than going up, mostly because of the rope. Actually, with the rope it was rather fun, and I found myself going much too fast, doing stupid things like jumping, and intentionally sliding down slopes while holding the rope. Despite my stupidity I made it out alive, and with only a few bumps and bruises. At the bottom I got dinner and watched Terminator on the restaurants TV. After dinner the ranger was playing songs on his guitar, all in English and many songs that I was familiar with. The best song, by far, was entitled “Don’t Eat My Cat” a tribute to Gon’s (the Ranger) cat. Also listening to the music were two beautiful German women, an actor and a director, who turned out to be excellent company over the next day and a half (“Yeah, I did the hike earlier, but you know what, I bet it would be fun to do again tomorrow with you two!”).

 If this entry gets any longer than not even my mother will bother finishing it, so I will let a few pictures tell the story.