Novel Story, Teaching In Thailand

[PeaceBlondie]

IJWT, who has provided another sub-forum here with a continuing saga of life in Thailand, suggested that I post a couple of short excerpts from Volume 2 of my unpublished novel, which imagines an American hiding out in Mae Hong Son, teaching English to refugee children. Maybe it'll be fun. I'll purge it of the outright pornography. The teacher has become one of the most famous people in the world, but is living like a refugee while he recovers from the death of his partner, a Tzotzil Maya 'Indian.' The Thai ajarn, Prathong, is a trouser-wearing khatoey.

INSTALLMENT ONE:

FIRST DAY OF CLASS – Thursday, 28 October 2005/2548

The tropical sun rose on Thursday morning at 6:50 a.m., a typical 12 hour day, and the temperature was already 80 degrees inside the house. The two ajarns had been living at Robert’s house since the foreign ajarn from "Costa Rica" arrived. His career in law prepared Martin/Robert to never walk into a courtroom unprepared, and he wanted to do the same thing in teaching English in Thailand. Little did he realize yet, that all those hours that Paulla had told him about the job were ten times what most foreign ‘ajarns’ get before starting class. At least Martin was still a good listener, even if he was distracted easily. And Paulla repeated herself enough that it stuck. “Your first class will be at 9:15 a.m., but of course you must be in your place for opening assembly at 7:50. First, national song – just stand straight. Then, Buddhist pray – just raise two hands to your chin, like students do. When they drop their hands, keep straight for the other pray. When students sit down, you can relax, but don’t cross your legs like a little American girl.” “Paulla! Nobody has ever said I look like a little American girl!”

Martin couldn’t believe how much importance was placed on outward appearance. They’d gone to town to buy all the right-colored, long-sleeved dress shirts for each day: yellow, pink, light green, ORANGE, and Friday was ‘Lanna’ traditional shirt. And matching cheap ties, of course. He complained that it was taking up his first month’s wage, although it cost about 15 minutes of interest income on his hidden assets. Cotton clothing is cheap in Thailand.

He’d already met the Director (always capitalized, or as the Brits say, ‘upper case’ – Martin was learning a lot more British terminology than just ‘lift’ and ‘lorry.’). Director Wichai, who directed both the prathom (primary) and matayom (secondary) schools, was very courteous and respectful, mainly because his boss’s boss made it clear that Ajarn Robert George Palmer had friends in the rightest of the right places. Wichai didn’t realize that Robert had been placed through the efforts of Prince *****, who started by writing a vague letter on family stationery to the Minister of Education, signing it with his title. When the prince got the return phone call – about an hour after his letter was received at the Ministry – he got exactly what he wanted, no questions asked.

In September 2005, Director Wichai was glad to obey his bosses, and very glad to get that rarest of specimens, a native speaker of English, even though the Costa Rican part didn’t make sense. That didn’t matter, because Wichai knew that in the provinces, so-called ‘native speakers of English’ included backpackers from Romania, Italy, and Sierra Leone. Ajarn Prathong, who’d spent yet another semester teaching English at both schools without assistance, was overjoyed to have a native speaker. Little did Paulla realize what a blessing this Palmer man would be. Well, Paulla began to realize it during that first ecstatic hour, smashed against the concrete wall in the toilet, screaming for joy. She poured out her heart and her brain to Robert, not to mention her anatomy, so that her English improved tremendously. Years later, whenever someone commented Ajarn Prathong on her English, Paulla would begin by modestly saying, “I had a private tutor.” You can’t get any more private than that.

The lovers decided there was no time, this morning, for their usual early romp in the hay. Each man put on the proper attire – orange shirt and tie for Thursday, of course – and put on their black lace shoes as they exited the front door. Paulla’s old Honda was indefinitely down for repairs, so they walked the 200 meters (metres). Everybody in Sop Pong Tai knew that the schools had a new foreign ajarn, and that their own Ajarn Prathong/Paully had a new lover, so those parts of Robert’s identity were already known. It was all so exciting, since they had known Prathong all his life, that even local gossips like the beautiful, brainy, 18.8-year old Kao-Fang (Nattamon) was satisfied with juicy tidbits about Ajarn Robert, without suspecting ‘the rest of the story.’ Simply masquerading as Robert, Martin kept the rumor mill churning by being a fast walker, a fast talker, an old man, a gay man, a man with long (black!) hair, a man with blue eyes….and probably a man with a long bamboo stick.

Paulla kept Robert to a walking pace that was so slow that the White man’s impatience was obvious. “Ajarn Prathong, do we always walk this slowly in Thailand? I think that I walk three times as fast.” “Oh, Ajarn Robert, I see you – sometimes you walk five times fast! But Thailand is very hot; you cannot walk fast like that alltime.”

Many of the neighbors were suddenly busy manicuring lawns and taking out garbage. It seemed that half the community suddenly had business to conduct in the front of the house. They all waiied except for one very old couple, and Prathong clued Robert to wai them first. Everybody smiled, but so many of the smiles had missing teeth that Robert thought the discovery of oil or uranium here would present a bonanza for dentists. Eventually, Sop Pong Tai would have its 15 minutes of fame, but only a few inhabitants would benefit by more than 10,000 baht. Meanwhile, Robert was beginning to feel uneasy. It was much more than just first-morning jitters, and he had held massive audiences spellbound. Something was not right about this setting. It started with the faces, which suddenly began to look much too familiar. Much too Mayan. He would later learn that when northern Thais are shown pictures of Tzotziles with mountain backdrops, the usual guess is a Thai hill tribe, ‘Meo.’

Being a queen, Ajarn Prathong knew how to make a grand entrance. She purposely had them turn down a narrow soi so that they would break out into the open on the only broad street in Sop Pong Tai, directly lined up at the main entrance to the school. It shielded Robert from the shining faces for a while, only to shock him at the school entrance. Refugee villages aren’t very impressive, but Paulla did the best she could at the school entrance. Since it was a typical Thai government school, the entrance marquee was worthy of a marquis. The granite-faced concrete marquee that spread out on both sides of the front gates wouldn’t have been any more impressive if the Houston Symphony Orchestra was playing the Fourth Movement of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony as they walked into the auditorium of the ---well, you get the idea. Fifty years later, Ratchaneekron and Nattakit (nicknames Give and Pom) were telling their great grandchildren, “We remember the first day we saw Ajarn Robert - we didn’t know he was Martin Miller, but it was right in front of the entrance to the school…..”

Next installment: teaching Prathom 6

[mbkudu]

Nice PB, but I wouldn't quit your day job.

[PeaceBlondie]

But, I already quit my day job!

[Ladphrao]

PB

I don’t know if you are interested in constructive criticism or not, if not, ignore the rest of my post and stop with my respect for making the effort to write a book.

I don’t pretend to be an expert on writing, especially fiction, everything I have written for publication has been non-fiction. So my comments are not those of an expert in this field.

You use the term “ajarn” about 15 times in this short piece. No one calls a grade school teacher “ajarn” unless they are trying to smooze the guy for some reason. It comes across like you have learned your first word in Thai and want to show off by using it over and over again. Everyone standing outside and wai-ing the new farang kru? I highly doubt it. But I guess it is every farang’s fantasy to think he or she is a local celebrity because of the color of his or her skin color.

“Martin couldn’t believe how much importance was placed on outward appearance.”

“do we always walk this slowly in Thailand?”

The writing comes across like someone who has been in the country for 6 weeks who thinks he has gained an amazing amount of knowledge about the culture and feels a need to teach the rest of us.

I’m not sure who your target audience is, the writing seems to make the assumption at times the reader is expected to understand some aspects of teaching English in Thailand and other places you explain the simplest things? Is your target audience ESL teachers in Thailand or general readers? I’m not sure a book about teaching English in Thailand would have much more appeal to a general audience than a book about brick laying in New Zealand, but I ain’t a publisher.

I know it is much easier to criticize others than it is to do something yourself. I have a written a few pieces that have been published recently and myself I am working on a book deal with initial encouragement from the publisher. It is scary to stick your work out there for all to see and comment on. Writing is a tough game, especially fiction. One needs a thick hide but also an open mind to suggestions.

Take any criticism with a grain of salt, but in my opinion, the style does not come of as professional or something that would be published, but what the hel_l do I know.

Good luck, but you might want to consider a few more re-writes before sending it off to a publisher.

Do you teach writing? This might be a classic example of those who can do, those who can’t, teach.

[PeaceBlondie]

Thanks, Ladphrao. I do appreciate the critique.

The character is teaching both prathom and matayom in northern Thailand, where (in my experience) matayom teachers are universally and always addressed as "Ajarn," especially by colleagues. Seriously, if my deskmate wanted to talk to me about the lady behind me, it was "Ajarn PeaceBlondie, did you know that Ajarn Pittiporn is teaching Ajarn Snotapat's class because Ajarn Snotapat is ill today?" They were obsessive about the title. I never heard 'kru' in my two years in the matayom circles in northern Thailand.

Thanks; I'll try to rewrite the passages again and again; I do it every day. The passage that's posted here is of a total stranger who's been in Thailand for two weeks, and the readers are assumed to never have been in Thailand, and totally unfamiliar with Thai social and educational customs. Thais do walk more slowly than New Yorkers and adrenalin-charged Texans. Much importance is placed on outward appearance (or so the veteran posters on these forums would lead us to believe).

But you're right, I'm sure: my style is not professional yet because it's my first attempt at fiction.

And yes, I was wai-ed on my first day, and very often in my second year in that province, sometimes just walking on campus in mid-day. Maybe they don't do that in Bangkok. I will tone it down, though.

And the 550 pages are not primarily about teaching ESL in Thailand; it's about a guy who at this point is world-famous everywhere except Mae Hong Son province and some remote parts of Papua New Guinea.

Nah, I don't intend to teach writing until my novel's been published and turned into a screenplay.

Thanks again; that's what I needed.