"English t-shirt?"

[The second in a two part rapid fire.]

At some time around 9:30 AM on February 15th, my traveling friend and I rolled over in our beds to a pounding on the window. "English t-shirt?"

I looked across the room at Billy.

"T-shirts?", he said. "We don't want any t-shirts."

I went back to sleep.

-----------------------------------------------

Five minutes later. Knocking.

"English t------?" the voice said."

Billy rolled over, "Seth, I think she's saying 'English teacher?'" He opened the door. It was a staff member from the Jolly Frog guesthouse.

"Are you Seth... Wyncott? You sent e-mail to school yesterday. Miss Noppawan, she hear to see you now. She been here since 8:00. How soon you be ready?"

"Uh, 30 minutes...?" I said in a questioning yawn.

"No! She has been waiting."

"Ten minutes. I'll be out in ten minutes."

"Okay, I will tell her."

The door closed, and within seconds the fragments of my memory began to reattach.

The previous day, with a compelled feeling in my gut, I sent an e-mail to a Miss Noppawan. I had responded to her single page notice for English teachers needed at a nearby government school, in the rural village of Nongkhao. My e-mail expressed a very small bit about myself and my degree, but moreso did I stress the fact that while unsure if my background would qualify for a position like this, I would still love to see the school and meet the children in Nongkhao.

With my exhaustion from waking early to catch the sunrise, and staying out late the previous night, I had forgotten to check my e-mail for a response and instead drifted off to sleep without the slightest notion that there would be an opening, but while I slept, a same-day response sat in my inbox. Here is the message:

Dear Seth Wyncott

Thank you very much for your interested Nongkhao school.
Yes we need English teacher very much. So it is Ok for you

if tomorrow Miss Yupharat will meet you at Jolly Frog. and

bring you to see Nongkhao school and talking about teaching.

She will meet you at 8:00 am. Is it Ok? Please let me know.
Thank you.

Sincerely,

Noppawan

This was unexpected. And I certainly did not think that the Jolly Frog staff would find my name in the logbook and come pounding on my window. Yet giving credit where credit is due, I suppose I admire their persistence.

I pulled on my jeans (in the case that this were a professional interview I would need to look nice), while in the same instance I brushed my teeth and wet my hair at the sink. Without much time to think, I walked out the door to breakfast where Miss Noppawan, and Miss Yuparat (a fellow teacher), patiently and properly sat waiting for me at a table in the front.

Miss Noppawan held a copy of my e-mail in her hand, and picking it up as a reference, she looked pleased to meet me and enthusiastic about what I had written. Without a menu I ordered a fresh cup of coffee and an omelette, and after running back to my room for my wallet I soon was sitting in their car on my way to the school at Nongkhao, to meet the class and teach a lesson.

More fragments of memory began to piece themselves together. I smiled in the car, and with a Peace that passes my understanding, waited.

As we drove the scenery changed from city, to rice paddies, to village life until we pulled into the gravel drive at the Nongkhao school. I followed Miss Yuparat and Miss Nongkhao up the cement stairs into the main building where the office doors all hung open, maybe in a spirit of community, but also to allow a small escape from the heat. I was introduced to the assistant director and other staff members, and after checking a test for grammatical errors, I went to meet the class.

I stood in an empty room with Miss Yuparat, two whiteboards connected from end-to-end, two markers, and 30 empty desks. I took a breath and exhaled with puffed cheeks.

A school bell rang.

Thirty desks now slowly filled with thirty heads of deep velvet black hair, thirty school uniforms of yellow and black, and thirty smiling, laughing faces.

Miss Yuparat gave me a brief introduction and then told me to begin. "Tell the students about yourself."

Thirty notebooks opened.

I took a fading marker and wrote, "My name is Seth."

The class read my print in unison, until voices trailed off on the ending TH sound; this I have quickly learned is very difficult for the Thai.

I changed markers and we continued.

"I am from America."

"I live near Chicago."

"It is very cold where I live. We have snow."

"I am the oldest child in my family. I have 4 brothers and 1 sister."

"Some of my hobbies are reading, writing, playing the piano, and biking." (This was a hard one).

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

After 45 minutes, some laughs at my struggles with a Thai tongue-twister, a joke about wanting to buy my jeans, a question if I play football (soccer of course), and a comment that I look like David Beckham, we finished our first session.

After lunch in an outdoor cafeteria with teachers that spoke little English, and 250 students that smiled, shouted "hello hello!", and laughed at the new minority at their school, I met with Miss Yuparat and Miss Noppawan.

"Yes," I told them. "I will commit to teaching for the final two weeks of the term, at least."

They expressed their enthusiasm and thanks, allowed me to use the internet, offered up place for me to stay, and after a meal with Miss Noppawan and her family, I was back at the Jolly Frog by 7:00 PM.

I walked back to my room with joy and thanks, for again His strength is proven far greater than my weak abilities.

I know it will be a challenge. Already, in the first 45 minutes with the class I learned a great deal about intricacies regarding how to write upon the board, how to pronounce, how to check work, and how to praise. Everything is worthy of note. Still, challenges await. It will be interesting establishing myself in a position of leadership in a class where full communication may often be difficult and ages vary from 7 and up. I was warned there are some "naughty" students, but this is to be expected. There is also the question of Eastern and Western philosophies, of teaching and of life. I certainly anticipate learning just as much as the students that over the next two weeks I will teach.

I am not intimidated.

Now I seek to be changed. I am anxious to begin.

Tonight, I move out of my guesthouse, and Monday, I begin.