Dear Family and Friends,

Ok, let’s take an informal survey: how many of you use the word “row”? No, in this case I do not mean “row” as in “row, row, row your boat…,” I mean “row” pronounced akin to “cow” or “wow.” After 3 weeks of CELTA training, I could also spell this out for you in phonemes - but I don’t think this would help you all in the same way that this helps our students. Anyway, yesterday, in order to fulfill the required amount of teaching observation we watched a ghastly video of a female expert ESL teacher instructing an intermediate class. The adjective ghastly was earned in several ways: the teacher’s earrings were the size of dinner plates, she often seemed more intent on sweeping the hair out of her face than teaching the students, she spent a lot of time kneeling around the classroom, the sound quality/white noise was horrid, and on top of these issues, I found the vocabulary that she was teaching regarding relationships odd. I mean, really, who uses “row” to discuss two people fighting in a relationship??? Hmm… well, come to find out, all 10 other people sitting in the classroom observing the video with me. Hmmm… and while we are on the subject, could you really use the word “fancy” to indicate that you had a crush on someone? Ok, let me re-phrase: could you use the word “fancy” to indicate that you had a crush on someone in the US without getting beat up??? Consider this a few real-life examples of differences between British-style and American-style English.

Yesterday in the ECC CELTA class was… notable. First of all, the tension was really high: we had a written assignment due while many of us (including me) were teaching too. The class mood was very much like pre-finals at the U: lots of rushing around and barely tamped down hysteria. Add to that an episode of diarrhea for one friend and grumpy auras radiating from others and believe you me, the joy intensifies. For my part, after struggling for a few days with a bout of very unpleasant nausea (cause unknown), I was a bit behind yet still managed to turn my assignment in at 9 am (due: 6 pm) and then concentrate on our lessons + my teaching. Any grumpiness on my part was due to the day previous when I had had a horrible teaching outing - mostly because I’m inexperienced and teaching elementary students is harder. I was highly anxious not to have another bad outing. Speaking of which, during my post-teaching analysis, I used the word “outing” – which prompted another discussion of American and British-style English that immediately lead to a discussion of cricket and baseball. I’m not sure that my opinion that baseball is “magic in person” held sway but there are doubters in every crowd, yes? Oh, and if you yourself require a definition of “outing,” please e-mail my father for an explanation.

Anyway, another reason that yesterday was notable: in our trainee class, we did a few unintentionally thought-provoking exercises – one in which we had to write a list of pros and cons regarding being an ESL teacher. My list was short as 3 weeks of unpaid, academic teaching doesn’t really count… but as a class, we worked up a list on the board which I found rather intriguing. I regret not writing it down but here is my recollection:

Pros Cons
• Allows for interaction with a wide variety of people with a wide variety of experiences
• Cultural immersion
• Allows for travel
• It is a win-win: when students benefit, teachers benefit
• Respectful position in society
• Allows one to work for a living • Hard work
• Salaries tend to be low
• Being away from loved ones

(and my personal favorite)
• There are a lot of muppets in the field, which often keeps the good teachers from getting the recognition (respect, money?) they deserve

Muppets????

Naturally, I had to request a definition of muppets in this context – which was explained to me as misfit ex-pats that cannot make it in their real world so they move to Asia and poorly teach English for crust. Apparently the TESL profession is rife with muppets and this poses a real problem for good teachers. Although present company was eventually excluded from this definition, it still made me think: am I a misfit?

Within the space of a few days, I’ve received two wonderful pieces of news from the home front: one friend and her husband closed on their first home while another couple welcomed a healthy baby girl. Detached as I am from you all, I could still imagine the first glimpse of my friend’s little girl or that first step into my friend’s new home. These momentous events did not happen in my life to me and I’m away to practice having my own momentous events – yet I sorrowed for not being able to celebrate with my dear friends. Although I did celebrate in my own way: both pieces of news came via e-mail – and both made me clench my fists, slightly spring from my chair and exclaim “yes!” out loud. And for the record, yes, my classmates love it when I do that.

Anyway, I’ve been told hundreds of thousands of times that thirty is not old and if I want to marry, buy a home, have a baby, have a dog, that there is still plenty of time. But it is hard to escape that while my peers are carrying through fairly normal lives (marrying, home buying, procreating), I quit my job and move to Asia for an undefined period of time. Does this make me a misfit? Well, yes, I know that I can function in our society; in fact, I can succeed in our society but is my functioning in society like placing a square peg in a round hole? If so, why don’t I fit right? These are questions that only I can answer for myself – although I was reassured to find out that Mr. Anti-Muppet doesn’t think I’m in danger of being a muppet myself. This was a relief. Phew.

I’ve examined my class closely for muppets – and found none (although I’m biased) – but I do wonder whether we are a group of misfits. I must leave this an open question in particular to the individuals in my class – but the ex-pats that I observe around Bangkok are fair game, no?

As you all may be aware, Bangkok has a certain unsavory reputation. A song that typifies this is “One Night in Bangkok” – the words to this song still occasionally indelibly run through my brain - if you have not heard this song, here is a link: http://www.bangkoktonight.com/one_night_in_bangkok.shtml. Anyway, One Night in Bangkok typifies that idea that the sex trade and other vices (as my woman studies class was fond of describing it) are alive and flourishing in Bangkok. And so they may be although I see few signs of this besides assorted bustiers in the shops and an odd plethora of Playboy emblems. I would definitely urge you to forget whatever you’ve heard about Bangkok and judge the city for itself.

Yet the aspect of the sex trade that I immediately noticed and took an instinctive dislike to is the common sighting of a western man of a certain age, usually with reddened skin, often wrinkled, wearing thick gold chains and a beer belly parading around, holding hands with an always much younger, much smaller Asian woman. The Western man and the Asian girl usually are holding hands and looking straight ahead or even away from each other – I rarely see such a couple conversing or smiling. I know that you are all going to laugh and accuse me of stereotyping (and I am, a bit) but this sight has become common in my experience and it bothers me. Since my first spotting of this brand of couple, I’ve taken the time to think about this and mentally flip the Asian face to a Caucasian face and guess what? I have same reaction whether the woman is Asian or Caucasian, Black or blonde. I suppose this means that I don’t like the idea of women of being with a man solely for his money/power and a man hunting for a trophy companion. Anna Nicole Smith? Yuck. I vastly prefer that men and women marry for mutual companionship and consolation.

Returning to the stereotypical Western man + his Asian woman, I admit that now visceral repugnance has switched to logical ambiguity. For whatever reason, the men are misfits within their own societies and end up taking themselves to a place like Bangkok to change this. Naturally, the men would like companionship – a lovely woman or Thai boy – and they utilize what they have to acquire it. Like any other society. This has been happening for many years in many different societies and in many ways it works. The woman gets to utilize his wealth to assist herself and her family to greater advantage while the man gets to be the hero that enables this. What is wrong with that?

Perhaps this entire line of thought are simply my Woman Studies scars revealing themselves… but in the end, I must conclude that this sort of arrangement, traditional or not, whether everyone is happy with it or not, reeks of exploitation. And exploitation is legitimately objectionable. I feel that the Western men have the ability to exploit disadvantaged attractive women and ask them to perform to a certain role, be a certain image in order for the western man to get what he wants or what he thinks he wants. This, I believe, is what bothers me.

To be fair, I’ve done some self-examination. One thing that I’ve realized is that I’ve had two past crushes on men that solely date Asian women. Perhaps this is the source of my irritation? Could be. Or maybe this whole irritation is jealousy? Maybe I’m jealous of the exploited Asian women because they are universally slim, beautiful, and able to project themselves as desirable and nice… and they succeed to catch themselves a man (we are not examining quality here). Sadly, I am rarely, if ever slim, beautiful, desirable or nice. Oh, yes, I have virtues that make me a worthwhile catch but no one has ever accused me of being desirable and nice at the same time. Or here’s a more intriguing thought: maybe the real source of my irritation is that with my own Rubenesque proportions, sun-reddened skin and decent amount of earning power, the system doesn’t work in such a way that I can acquire myself a Chow Yun-Fat or Asian Brad Pitt who’ll willingly be paraded around by me, support me, and tell me who wonderful I am. Now if that isn’t a reason to be jealous, I don’t know what is.

One more layer to my ambiguity: I’ve been assessing “the boys” in my class. I'm on universally good terms with the British boys in my class – they amuse me, I amuse them, we get a long. This is nice. But don’t get your match-making minds into gear as they all have Asian girlfriends. Although I may be biased, not a one strikes me as being here in Asia because he cannot make a life elsewhere (although arguably they do better here) and not a one strikes me as a heartless exploiter of women. Yet despite the Asian girlfriends, none of them strike me as ever having the ability to be slightly interested in me. Because they are devoted to their girlfriends? Or because I’m not Asian? Or because it would be a bad match? Dunno. And it doesn’t much matter.

For the record, you wonderful matchmakers, I’m not on this big jaunt through Asia looking for a man. That said, I’m keeping my eyes wide open as I’d greatly love to have some fun (in whatever form it might take) and of course, my heart longs for the day when I find a man to build a life with. I’d be lying to say anything else… and who knows what the future holds…

Anyway, this idea of being a misfit is a delicate subject and still after all of that, I do not have any answers. Lots to think on… makes me wonder what I’ll be thinking about this blog entry in a month and six months…

Fondest regards,

Laura

PS: Last week one boys used the word "shite" and then moved his attention to something else, while another told me that "shite" is past-tense of "shit" (who knew it was a verb?) and then a third, rather authoritative one rescinded the past-tense of the verb and told me that it is pronunciation derived from the Liverpool/Irish? Who knew that British boys could be so amusing? Well, and to be fair, every once in a while, I inspire a chuckle in them too. Apparently our class laughs more than the average class (according to our tutor). Last Friday, we were doing a lesson in Spanish in which we needed to act out roles and I was translating for my partner. We had the Spanish phrase "!Que calor!" and in to my role, I announced "I'm hot!" (as in warm hot, not good-looking). He blinked, reluctantly chuckled, which made me blink, realize the double-meaning and then blush a bit and laugh. He was quite good with that phrase after that - probably in kindness to keep me from saying something more embarrassing!

PS II: Another good boy story: on day I was seated in class with a bad taste in my mouth from lunch. So I pulled out some of my precious Extra, sugarless Winterfresh gum. You know, with the dark blue colored package? It was my Friday off and I was feeling good will towards men and women alike so I offered my fellow teachers a piece of gum. This was during a lesson so we couldn’t actually talk, but one guy put it in his mouth and immediately started gesturing in a way I just couldn’t understand – except that I did understand that he wasn’t truly pleased by the taste. Another told me during the break that it tastes the liniment that they put on to athletes knees – to which I replied that I thought that the gum tasted better than the average athlete’s knee liniment – definitely better than actually tasting athletes knees to find out. However, the females did not comment so perhaps they like liniment flavored gum. I, of course, love it and will be careful not to chew it all too quickly.

PSIII: Today's pic is of Paragon market in the middle of a refreshing rain.

Cheers!