First EFL Teaching Job in Thailand

After six relatively successful and peaceful years as an English language instructor, it's a good time to reflect back on my first teaching job in Thailand.

Getting Settled in the Slums of Bangkok

I arrived in Bangkok in 2002, fresh off a whirlwind TEFL course I had completed in Vancouver, Canada. It's the kind of teacher training designed for those who make decisions on a whim and are short on time and money yet still recognize the need for some kind of preparation. In many ways, these courses are simply a way to validate your decision to pull up roots and start a new life half-way around the world.

I rented a cheap room in the foreigner slums of Suhkumvit road, a span that stretches from the dire bars/whorehouses of Soi 4 and continues on for miles towards the south of Bangkok and the district of Bangna. The farther south you head, the thinner the concentration of foreigners (at least the white-skinned ones who have largely arrived out of choice rather than desperation.) Their presence in terms of apartment rentals and "neighbourhoods" is probably strongest around Sois 17-30. The main thoroughfare is fronted by 7-elevens, restaurants and bars and cluttered with street vendors along various spans. There are numerous side streets (sois) with more restaurants, bars, massage parlours, hotels and apartments for rent.

Dead-eyed expats with booze addled faces and a general appearance of listlessness lumber or slink along the streets. Many look as if they are retired and have no aim but to drift from bar to bar to air-conditioned room. If it weren't for the fact that many of them have decades younger prostitutes in tow and relatively presentable attire, many of them wouldn't look out of place in skid-row soup kitchens in the west. The reality of their lives is no doubt more nuanced and not so easy to characterize. Perhaps it's the general seediness of the area or the tendency of people to assume that others are up to no good that leads to easy dismissal and labeling.

Despite the hedonistic overtones of the area, it's a logical starting point for those looking to stay in country for a few years or more. The presence of relatively inexpensive housing, amenities that appeal to westerners and other foreigners to socialize with and seek advice from makes it easy to settle in for a short period of time.

The Job Search Begins

After a week or so of getting acclimatized I started my job search. There was a small language school just down the street from where I was staying. The Brit who owned the place essentially offered me a job on the spot despite my lack of experience. The teaching would be at corporate offices at all hours of the day and would require me to take taxis and the skytrain to various locations. Although the pay was well within what I had expected, the thought of trudging around in the stifling heat (something I was still getting used to) didn't appeal to me. Finances were no concern at that point and together with the realization that jobs were plentiful, I held off on accepting.

The next day I pounded the pavement again, this time walking south down Suhkumvit past the Emporium shopping centre in hopes of stumbling onto some more options. A few of the side streets were mainly residential and some had signs at the soi entrance advertising schools. It was close to mid-day and I was already soaked in the dress shirt, tie and trousers I had worn with the aim of making a good impression.

I came to the front entrance of a kindergarten. There was a large sign with pictures of animals in bright colours and some kind of annoyingly simplistic and optimistic slogan. I had certainly never considered the possibility of teaching such young children. At the same time, the thought of being at one location in air-conditioned comfort all day was appealing. I went through the gates towards the main office area. I was quickly ushered in to talk with the principal and owner of the school, a refined and pleasant Singaporean woman who was immediately receptive and indicated that they did, in fact, need a teacher or two. She asked if I was willing to do a short teaching demonstration.

"What? Right now?"

"Yes!'

"Er, ok..."

What did I have to lose? In fact, not even more than three minutes of my time. We went to a class that was already in session and asked the teacher if we could disturb her for a few minutes. I blundered to the front of the class, asked some of the students their names, told them a bit about myself and drew an idiotic picture of Snoopy on the board. With absolutely no idea what I was doing and an awkward and cringe-worthy result, I was sure she would politely tell me "Thanks, but no thanks." The very fact that she had cut the demonstration so short convinced me of this.

But instead, she offered me a job. I hesitated, unsure if it was really what I wanted and again stunned at the ease of finding work as a completely inexperienced and relatively unqualified teacher. If the first few days had yielded such positive results, perhaps I should just keep looking. Not wanting to appear too eager, I told the woman that I would consider her offer and give her an answer shortly. A few days later I phoned her and told her that I would need more money to consider the job. She quickly agreed to add another 3000 baht per month (about U.S. 100 dollars.)

I finally accepted the position, content that I had wrangled more than the standard salary other teachers were apparently receiving and certain that even if I didn't like the situation I could leave and find something else in no time flat.

Only Misfits Need Apply

I began the following day.

At first glance, my colleagues seemed to be a group of exiles, rejects and broken down desperadoes who had no where else to turn. Odd that a kindergarten would throw open their doors and welcome them all (including me) as the people to serve as the first teacher many of these students would know in their young lives.

There was an Iranian man with a heavy accent, a wonky back and a strict reliance on a handful of classroom games he played repeatedly with the kids, day after day, week after week. Another teacher from India was a motherly woman who seemed genuinely devoted to the idea of teaching and nurturing the children she was assigned. There was a chubby British lady who took her duties seriously enough, though from small talk I knew she was teaching mainly to extend her travels. And a Canadian of about 27 years old was the longest serving teacher with three years under his belt. It was obvious that he was the golden boy in the eyes of the principal and also appeared to be well liked by all the students.

The Canadian had prepared reams of documents, lesson plans and supplemental material. He had a good grasp on classroom management and offered me advice and encouragement on how to establish myself with the children. The youngsters absolutely loved him. During recess he was swarmed by the screaming tykes and he never shooed them away or sought refuge from their relentless demands.

However, at first it struck me as slightly odd how he interacted with them physically. He was constantly grabbing and hoisting kids in the air, which is nothing out of the ordinary. And they loved it. But on one occasion he was playing a kissing game with them during recess. I checked myself when I saw this and realized it was over-sensitivity on my part due to the climate of fear in the west and the notion that there's a pedophile lurking on every street corner. Any ulterior motives just didn't fit with this individual. Young, athletic, lean, drove a slick motorcycle and had a young and attractive girlfriend. I believe he was simply a devoted and skilled teacher who was a natural with kids. Still, it was bit strange.

A Big Mistake

After a few days I started to think about what it meant to be a "real" teacher. One with a degree in education, countless training courses under your belt, up to date on the current thinking in early childhood development and years of experience in the classroom. But many of these people I had been initially dismissive of looked to be pulling it off and providing a good environment for their students regardless of whether they had all the relevant qualifications.

I quickly realized that I was the one who was out of place. I knew almost immediately that I had erred in taking the job. I just didn't have the temperament nor the desire to spend my days babysitting. If I had had the patience, no doubt I would have seen that remarkable sponge-like learning ability of children who are so young and that would have motivated me to continue. But I didn't have the desire to hold on that long.

I had a few moments of clarity during the short time I spent there. They helped me to realize that I wasn't cut out for being a kindergarten teacher and to stay any longer would only result in the children under my care being shortchanged.

First, the overall set-up that existed at the school. While the female owner came across as wanting to offer the best for the students whose parents had paid so much money, there was little organization. The materials the Canadian developed were helpful but essentially there was no course curriculum or syllabi to speak of. The husband of the principal was a certifiable asshole who strode into a staff meeting one day and stated that it didn't matter what you did as a teacher, so long as the children were happy and in turn the parents satisfied. Whether any real learning went on was unimportant.

On another occasion I was watching the children at the end of the day. We took turns supervising them as they waited for their parents to arrive. The father of one of the kids, a caucasian who had evidently married a Thai woman, turned up and looked disappointed to see me. I had heard that the turnover for teachers at the school was quite high and I'm sure it was depressing for him to realize that no stable patterns were being established for his child. He seemed to sense my unease and awkwardness and briefly looked at me with near contempt. His feelings weren't misplaced.

Final Decision

The final moment that cemented my decision to get out took place in the classroom. The first few days had been hectic but I had established some order and started to develop some routines with the kids. But the constant scolding and telling students to return to their seats was getting me down. Finally, I snapped at one child, a young Chinese kid (many of the students weren't Thai but the offspring of foreigners working for international companies) named Xiao Xiao (pronounced Shao Shao) and made her cry. I felt sick with guilt and knew it was time to leave.

I went into the principal's office after school and informed her of my decision. She begged to at least stay on another week so that I would complete the probationary period and be paid for the work I had done. I refused and said that the money was irrelevant. Anyway, I had visions of her husband trying to rip me off if I stayed on. One week with no pay was easier to handle than another seven days wondering if I was going to be screwed over and putting up with further stress in the classroom.

I strode out into the late afternoon sunshine and knew that I had made the right choice.

I had lasted one week at my first teaching job in Thailand.