Since arriving in Thailand, I’ve been pushing myself every single day to try new things, meet new people, work through some of my sh**, and move towards becoming the version of myself that I’ve always imagined. That being said, sometimes you just need a break. I wish I could tell you I took on another fun and thought-provoking challenge this week, but in all honesty, I did the exact opposite. Instead, I allowed myself to be the most basic white girl I could possibly be on a weekend getaway to Singapore.

Just how basic was my weekend, you ask? Let me sum it up with my Internet search history (an exhaustive list of searches conducted while in Singapore):

Is Singapore a country or a city (what the f*** is a city-state)?

Brunch with bottomless mimosas near me

Affordable acai bowl Singapore

Most Instagram-worthy locations in Gardens by the Bay

Where is Singapore?

What color should I dye my hair quiz

Starbucks near me

It was my last trip with friends before starting solo travel, so I wanted to take the weekend to truly relax and treat myself for making it through my two months of teaching abroad (okay, so I had a few days of teaching this week before I was officially done, but I’m the kind of person to celebrate my birthday for a full month, so it could be worse). This relaxation time allowed me to reflect on my experience living and teaching in a foreign country. Since I haven’t given you all insight into just how insane these past two months have been, I decided to share some of my experiences, a few tricks I used to maintain sanity, and the most important lessons I learned along the way.

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Teaching English in Thailand was nothing like what I expected, but exactly what I needed (let me be cheesy- I’m feeling nostalgic here!).

Expectation: An easy job teaching a small group of adorable, quiet, respectful, and well-behaved children who neatly sit at their desks, ready and willing to learn.

Reality: Praying one student learns one word of English from your two months teaching a group of 25 wild children, who are ready to assemble and revolt at any given moment. I kid you not, this is the scene I walked into my first morning: My classroom doesn’t have desks, so my students were all sitting/laying on the floor. I looked to my left to see a girl riding around the room on a boy as if he were a horse. When I looked to my right, hoping for some comfort, I was greeted by the sight of a girl who decided to make a statement by taking off her school uniform and running around the room in her underwear. She ran past two boys who were play fighting in the corner, complete with Muay Thai moves so believable, I thought about breaking it up before I realized these three-foot-tall nuggets could kick my a**. It was a ZOO. But at least I was right about the kids being adorable? *Nervous laughs as I pray nobody saw me and “act natural” by moonwalking right back out of the classroom, straight to the airport.*

I was under the impression I would have 6th graders when I arrived for my first day of teaching, but was greeted by a crew of three-foot-tall, five-year-olds instead. To say I was wildly unprepared is an understatement. The youngest member of my family is only two weeks younger than me, so I had virtually no experience with kids. I avoided conversations with anyone more than 5 years younger than me like the plague (at what age does peek-a-boo stop working? Is Dora the Explorer still on TV? Is Fortnight a game, person, or TV show???) and never even held a child before. A coworker at a bar once handed me her kid so she could go tap a beer (I won’t even begin to dissect everything wrong with this moment), then upon seeing my fully extended arms and shocked expression, immediately took her baby back and had me go get the beer instead. I REALLY had no experience. With a fierce learning curve to overcome, here are few stories of my failures and triumphs as a kindergarten teacher in Thailand.

 

IN THE ~HEAT~ OF THE MOMENT

A few weeks ago, there was a day with a real feel of 108 degrees. The fans in my classroom were broken, and I was getting light-headed from trying to talk over my class who would not get quiet no matter how much I begged. I hadn’t covered any of the material I had planned for the day and my time was quickly running out. Every fiber of my being was telling me I had to power through the lesson and stick to my plan at all costs. That’s when it happened…

In a moment of frustration, I took the book in my hand and slammed it down onto the floor (that’s right, I got so fed up with five-year-olds that I threw a book. Do I also kick puppies to feel joy?). The worst part was, the “book” was more of a packet of papers, so when I threw it, it didn’t even make an audible sound over the roar of my class. Nobody even looked up. It was the saddest attempt at an outburst this world has ever seen. Not only was I an animal who tried to use intimidation to control a group of children, but I didn’t even do it well enough to get a single reaction (I guess I can officially cross “dictator” off my list of potential careers).

I was horrified by my actions, yet couldn’t help but crack up in the moment at how outrageous my behavior was. The only possible scenario that would make my reaction acceptable is if I were the President of the United States and was just notified of a nuclear attack, or if E! News announced “The Bachelor” didn’t get picked up for a 23rd  season. In the past, I would have been mortified and timidly walked into class the next day, unprepared to deal with the same level of craziness, letting the kids walk all over me to make up for my aggression the day before. Instead of punishing myself for my outburst, I decided to put my energy into learning from the situation.

The next time my class reached full zoo-mode, I would take deep breaths and think about how absurd I felt in my failed book slam moment. I used this tactic for the remainder of my time teaching, and boy did it save me a great deal of stress! It added a level of perspective to each situation and shed light on the fact that nothing is as serious as it feels in the moment. So what if I didn’t cover anything in my lesson that day? Instead, I showed my kids kindness and grace in a moment of frustration. They may not remember how to pronounce the word “family” correctly (we were working on making the “l” not sound like an “r” *Cue “Deck The Halls” from the A Christmas Story soundtrack*), but they will remember the teacher who chose patience instead of violence (they still use smacks for discipline and it breaks my damn heart) for years to come.

 

SAY IT WITH ME: GO WITH THE FLOW!

My time in Thailand taught me the same lesson on repeat: go with the flow.  I came into this experience with a very rigid construct of how things should be, and initially tried to resist the changes that headed my way. Since I was already in a completely new environment, I was one change away from a 2007 Britney Spears-level meltdown. Instead of shaving my head, I decided to face something I’ve struggled with for years: the ability to leave my high-strung ways behind and finally embrace “going with the flow”.

Here are just a couple of the things that pushed my buttons, but not my sanity:

Moment #1: On June 30th, all teachers were told they had to wear a yellow shirt every day for the entire month of July (because everyone only needs 24 hours to find a whole new wardrobe, right?). I do not own anything yellow. My skin tone is already basically yellow, so when you throw even more on top of that, I am a walking primary color. If they ever make a real-life version of the Simpsons, I would be cast as Lisa, solely based on the money they could save on makeup. I found it hard to believe that an entire country wore yellow every day (EVERY DAY???) for a month straight, so I laughed when someone first brought it up, but it really is a thing. They wear yellow in honor of their late king’s birthday (getting an entire country to dress a certain way for not even your birthday week, but your birthday month??? That guy was really doing something right). I had no choice but to respect the culture and put aside all of the clothes I bought for this trip to buy a yellow wardrobe that I will never wear again.

Moment #2: Every Friday, I was supposed to take my Kindergarteners outside for an hour-long gym class. I prepared the greatest lineup of schoolyard games this world has ever seen, and even wore my hideous running shoes (do cute running shoes exist?) with my skirt so I could tear it up like a kid for the hour. Upon arriving in the classroom to pick up my students,  I was told it was too hot to go outside (I am drenched in sweat every single day, yet today is the one day that’s too hot???), so I would be teaching an English lesson instead.

I walked to the front of the room and pulled an entire hour of material out of thin air. I chose a phonics lesson, and we unfortunately were on the letter “x”. Take a moment and try to think of five kindergarten-level words that start with “x” (yeah, I couldn’t either). I had those poor kids repeat the word “xylophone” about 100 times, turned it into a one-word rap, and I still don’t think they know what it means. Did I nail the lesson both in terms of quantity and quality? Absolutely not, but did I pull a 180 degree turn on my plans for the day without a single moment of panic? YES! Before coming here, this moment would have ended in a group of five-year-olds comforting me as I cried in front of them. Instead, I was laughing at the absurdity of the situation and winging it as best as I could. It turns out not having the flexibility of a lead pipe (or my hamstrings) means less stress and more fun??? Who knew!

 

FROM FOREIGNER TO FRIEND

Communicating with children with a language barrier was no small task. Some students in my class could speak English in full  sentences, while others could only say a select few vocabulary terms. It was hard to avoid frustration when trying to explain something in class (it took me an average of ten minutes to get them to even stand in a circle). On top of that, the kids were constantly pulling on my clothes, grabbing me (at least twenty of them owe me dinner after all the the a** grabbing they’ve done), and repeatedly yelling “teacha” to get my attention. Instead of letting the frustration creep in and keeping them at arm’s length so I wouldn’t need to deal with it, I embraced those little nuggets with open arms.

I learned all 25 of their names by the end of the first week, and by the end of week two, knew how to talk to each and every one of them. A few of my kindergarteners spoke enough English to hold small conversations about lunch/recess/etc., but for most, I had to revisit the same conversations every single time. For others yet, we could only communicate by making goofy faces and holding up hand signals. Here are just a few of my favorites (favorite stories! You thought I meant favorite students??? What is wrong with you?! …except you’re not wrong…) to paint a picture of what it was like communicating with Thai kindergarteners:

Captain (3’0”, 35 lbs)- Can only say: “What is your name?”, but expertly uses it to try to convince me to mix up the names of the other students in class.

Shiriw- Speaks to me in a captivating mix of Thai and gibberish (maybe it’s all Thai, I’m still uncultured) with the confidence of Kanye when he interrupted Taylor Swift at the VMA’s.

Prim- Only revealed she speaks perfect English during my last week, preferring to communicate in sassy shrugs instead.

Tang-Oh- Can hold an adult-level conversation, but when asked the name of a vocabulary term, answers incorrectly with so much confidence it takes my all not to crack up.

Me: *Holds up picture of cat.*

Tang-oh: “Policeman!” *Dabs in victory*

No matter which one of my students I talk to, I enter full hype girl mode to try to convince them their English is incredible. Even if I don’t have a damn clue what they’re saying, I respond to everything as if a friend is telling me juicy gossip from her date the night before (“No way!”, “Then what happened?!”, “That’s incredible!”, “Did he pay for dinner?!”). I pair this with all the high-fives and fist bumps my student will take, and by the end of each day, their heads can all barely fit in the same room. I do everything in my power to make each and every one of those adorable little nuggets feel special every single day. The way they proudly show me off to their parents when they get picked up from school, tackle me in the street when they see me in public, bring drawings and snacks to my desk, and will not let me leave for the day without a hug, makes me believe I actually somehow managed to do a decent job.

My little squad throwing up what I thought was a money sign… turns out it was a mini heart *sobs uncontrollably*

Teaching English in Thailand has been both one of the greatest, and most challenging experiences of my life. I grew more as a person than I could have imagined, learned more life lessons than I signed up for, and finally found some chill (not quite full chill yet, but I went from boiling water to at least lukewarm). I met incredible people along the way, and now have the best group of five-year-old friends I could have ever asked for. If you told me I would miss my little squad the first day of class when they were jumping, sneezing, coughing, and grabbing on me, I would have said you were crazy. Two months (and one massive bottle of hand sanitizer) later and here I am praying I make it through my last day without crying on a five-year-old. Will I get out of there with my composure intact? Stay tuned to find out.