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Hmmm. Got this from a while back ...

 

My first year in Rhek Thum, I taught English. One morning early in my career, my  first period first graders don’t show. I am surprised. They love English, and have never been late. Mook, in point of fact, is always early for extra practice (and to unabashedly study green eyes), but has poor pronunciation because she never stops grinning.

 

Anyway, unlike many schools, the morning ceremony at mine is always brief and to the point. But today, from the assembly area, I can still hear the head teacher over the loud speakers addressing—as well as dressing down—the students.

 

Stern tones.

 

I sit at my desk and wait. Practice my crayoning. I’m getting pretty good.

 

Thirty minutes later, she’s still going. I draw pictures on the blackboard.

 

Fifteen minutes left of class time and there’s a sudden stampede as forty pairs of six-year-old legs pump furiously down the hall, kicking off shoes in every direction, sprinting breathless into my room, pushing and shoving, tripping and falling, eyes all panicky and anxious.

 

I’m baffled, but smile at the kids reassuringly. They immediately become motionless (very unusual), and sitting on the floor (no desks in my room) with chests heaving, they stare back with expressions of uncertain anticipation. My next words will obviously be earth shattering.

 

Shame I have no idea what they should be.

 

Just then a Thai teacher walks by my door. I wave her in and ask, what was that speech all about?

 

She covers her smile and a snort with a hand and whispers, “About not being late for class.”

 

 

 

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