Too bad they already made the movie

Dear reader,

With the arrival of the new year, I've picked up a new hobby. Sure, sure, I really ought to be doing something useful like learning Thai or figuring out how to teach but, instead, I'm cooking. Specifically, I've enrolled in a 150 hour night class at the Phitsanulok vocational college. We meet every day. It's serious. And by serious, I mean seriously awesome. My favorite dish so far is gang masaman gai, or masaman curry with chicken, but the most amusing was blaa dek mamuang, which translates roughly to catfish clouds with mangos. It's sort of like catfish that's been minced and then whipped to the texture of cotton candy, and then deep fried.

Here's my friend and colleague P'Add. After bringing me along to her painting class at the vocational college, she continued her streak of benevolence by deciding to enroll in cooking class with me. I'd be lost without her.


And here's me, chopping the fins off my first ever whole fish.


It turns out that there are a lot of very basic procedures in Thai cooking that I, having only the knowledge of an amateur American kitchen-user, am totally inept at performing. For example, deep frying anything, or using a mortar and pestle. That last one is especially unfortunate as traditional wisdom holds that the better you are at using the mortar and pestle, the better wife you make. And, due to my fair-weather vegetarianism, I am also totally inexperienced at cooking meat. The teacher is pretty forgiving of my kitchen dysfunctions, but I did get reprimanded for washing the pork too slowly.

Here's that fish, and a companion, a little later. This is the first thing I've ever deep fried!


I'm learning lots about Thai ingredients and such. This is the shopping list for gang kiew wan gai, or sweet green curry with chicken. Please note P'Add's helpful translations. And also the last ingredient, congealed blood. Note of caution should you travel here: cooked blood looks dangerously like dark tofu, so much so that one could innocently consume it for quite some time until being informed that it is, in fact, congealed chicken blood.


And here's us shopping for supplies at the market. I still miss Whole Foods, but this definitely helps ease my homesickness. Also at Whole Foods you cannot buy an entire pig's head, so really, Whole Foods-0, Thai market-1.


The final product: the most delicious green curry I've ever eaten. Perhaps I have to say that because I spent so very long pounding out the fresh curry paste with the pestle that my arm was sore the next day, but I think I am only a little biased.



Tonight we cooked sticky rice and shredded pork. Tomorrow is a spicy salad with glass noodles. If you tell me your favorite Thai dish I'll learn how to make it and cook it for you when I return.

Okay, I should sign off, dear reader, before I get any more unbearably Julie&Julia on you. I just wanted to keep you abridge of my daily life. I hope you're doing well. And happy belated Martin Luther King Jr. Day! I tried to explain to my students that Monday was a holiday celebrating the life of an activist who fought against racial discrimination, but this prompted one of my students to start calling another (more tan) student "black" in a taunting way. I tried to correct them, but I think something was lost in translation.

Yours truly,
R

Sam...Song...Nung...

Happy New Year!

Dearest reader, I wish you a wonderful 2010. Any good resolutions? I thought of one but then I forgot it.

I'm on holiday in Chiang Mai. The sign below was posted on a tree at a forest temple I visited.



Love,
R

Bpen kru pasa Engrit, na ka.

This is the way every English class in Thailand starts:

On cue from their classroom leader, the students stand in unison and say,

“Good mawning, teacher!”

I reply, “Good morning. How are you today?”

Class, “I am fine, thank you. And you?”

“I am fine, thank you. You may sit down.”

This is the English dialogue that every Thai student knows by heart, and it is a bit of a joke that this is the only English that Thai students know. And by “joke,” I mean, one of those funny-because-it’s-true jokes, as in some cases it is definitely the only English that Thai students know. And I use the term “know” loosely, as I don’t think many of my students actually understand what they’re saying, i.e. what the word “today” means.

Today, instead of “fine,” I used the word “great,” and for the most part, the response was a sea of confused faces.

My budding career as a teacher:

I teach twenty classes a week at Triam Udom Suska School of the North. I am at school from seven forty five in the morning to four in the afternoon, Monday through Friday. I take “public transportation” from my apartment to school, in the form of a song taew, which is in fact a small pickup truck fitted with two rows of seats in the bed. I have my own wooden desk at work, for which I have purchased several different ambiguously useful desk organization apparatuses. I have no classroom but rather travel from class to class to teach. I meet with each of my twenty classes once a week, and each class has just under fifty students.

It has been a little hectic, transitioning from never having taught before in my life to over nine hundred students. At first, some very basic things seemed unclear to me, for example, how and what I should teach. How would I communicate anything through a near total language barrier? How would I learn over 900 names? How would I give grades when I have almost 200 students a day? Then there were other less immediate but still meaningful concerns: how could I possibly be of any help to these students who see me once a week for fifty minutes? What would they possibly retain? And selfishly, how would I find a sense of satisfaction if could not connect with and feel of some service to students?

These mysteries are beginning to clear up, or at least seem less pressing. For example, as much as it pains and embarrasses me, I have to use the students’ numbers for grading. I just cannot learn 900 names at once, especially as they are written in Thai. Additionally, I am really blossoming into quite the enthusiastic mime thanks to my attempts to act out everything I say from “nice vs. mad” (easy) to “you don’t have to copy, because this is just a participation grade” (difficult). My Thai has taken strides exclusively in the area of classroom vocabulary (ex. “poot mai chat pasa thai…” and “song ma hi kru,” meaning “this means…in Thai, but not exactly” and “pass your papers to the front.” From experience I can tell you that these are time-consuming concepts to act out). I smile big, nod and say “very good” maybe one billion times a day. When I am sad, I make the whole class clap about something because that always cheers me up. The rest—figuring out how to feel like I am helping these kids in some way—I’m giving time, letting go of my worries.

The teachers here are extremely kind, giving, and tolerant of my incessant questions. The students are great, which makes teaching much more fun. What they lack in English skills they make up for in sweet dispositions. Some of them are absolute peaches, and even the ones with the most attitude aren’t terribly rude or disrespectful. Happily, they seem far younger than American high school students, giggling all the time and stretching into new teenage personalities.

Also there’s a whole new range of emotions I’m learning. I don't know the word for these new emotions but maybe if you are a teacher you have felt them too?: something like “that sinking panic when the air is going out of the classroom and all at once every student is bored and not paying attention to you,” or “the bliss that comes from students spontaneously laughing because they actually understand and are enjoying the educational game you designed” (yes, I finally made that past perfect game work).

And so it begins, my career as a teacher. I make worksheets, I play educational games, I force Thai children to read dialogues at a full scream because they are too quiet. I may not be a very good teacher, but I am trying!

Yours,
Rebecca

Phitsanulok, I am here

Sawatdee kaa dear reader,

I have arrived.

I am safe and sound in Phitsanulok. I write to you from my humble and totally comfortable fourth floor apartment, full on green curry, mango, and sticky rice.

These first few days have been a sort of incoherent blur of confusion, tiredness, some teaching of English (I use the term "teaching" here loosely), more confusion, some awkwardness, ants, and a lot lot lot of kindness from the faculty at my school.

Tomorrow morning I introduce myself to the whole school (1600 students)! Wish me luck. I am practicing my speech right now:

(First: a wai, which is a bow with hands pressed at my head level)

"Sawatdee Kaa. Dichan cheu Rebecca Riddell, kaa.Yin dee tee dai roo jak, kaa. Dichan bpen con prattet American. Ma jark Austin, Texas, kaa. Kob kun tee hai dichan ma bpen kru tee nee. Ja bpen kru tee dee ka. Kob kun kaa. Sawadee kaa."

(Another wai)

That's more or less it, except I don't know how to type the tone marks in with english letters, which is just as well because I really am not able to pronounce the tones when I speak.

I will post some pictures later this week, maybe once I have decorated my little new home. I just wanted to tell you that I am here and doing fine (...hi mom!). I am incredibly well cared for by the flock of mother hens that is the English department. I will be teaching 20 classes per week, i.e. 20 different 45 person classes, once per week. I sat through my first all-Thai staff meeting today. I live across an alley from a giant and wonderful temple. Also I have a sinus infection and my voice is gone (poor timing). Finally, I have been given a Thai nickname by the staff. It is "Duuan Pen," which means full moon, because I arrived on the full moon.

Oh and, additionally, I am using this blog to officially declare full-out war on the ants in my apartment. As recently as yesterday I was trying to befriend the little parades of ants so I wouldn't be talking to myself in my apartment, but we have failed to establish a mutually beneficial relationship. I tried to show mercy at first, I did, but as of a recent banana peel/macbook disaster, I am now giving no quarter.

Thanks for your time. Take care now.

Yours,
Rebecca