Recess!

6:45 morning alarm sounds.

“What the?! Already?”

(Snooze.)

6:55 morning alarm sounds.

(Snooze.)

7:45 morning alarm sounds.

Damn. You Work at 8, get up.

(Sighhhhh, rolls around)

Get up.

(Still fetal positioned, hands in prayer mode under my right cheek)

GET UP!

Okay, okay…I’m up…

I roll out of bed, tripping over a spilt pile of last night’s grading that I dumped on the side of my twin mattress; others in attendance to last night’s floor party were a couple of dirty tanks, my purse, and a lonesome sock. I pride myself on end of the semester cleanliness. I zombied my way out of Quarantine, my only source of protection barricading me from those winged bastards’ full-fledged attacks. I stand in place for a second but it’s long enough to feel the mirror staring at me with judgment.

Wow, YOU’RE a winner.

 A mixture of last weekend’s shenanigans and teaching exhaustion perform undisguised numbers on my face--Crusted Eyes and their long time partner, Heavy Bags, headline with appearances by Nappy & Tangled, Dark Circles, and Dragon Breath.

I drag my feet to the bathroom and get ready.

The possibility of falling back into a deep slumber is ruined by an orchestra of Thai wildlife. At least that’s what I try to convince myself. It’s partially true. I’ve pondered the thought of installing padded walls as a result of the variations of high pitched birdcalls at consistent intervals and the incessant howling bouts between the rabid dogs on-campus, which go on at the most random parts of the day…and night for that matter. The redundancy and tragedy of this Thai musical make the walls seem like they are closing in, piercing my ears like Styrofoam on Styrofoam or a rake on concrete; going mad is just around the corner.  

I need sleep…or the weekend…or which ever comes first.

It happens at the end of every school year, for students and teachers alike: burn out. Procrastination, quiet throughout the term, is now standing tall, cape flapping in the wind, and making its presence known. Stacks of ungraded class work, books, and doodled scratch paper clutter the desk, my mental Bitchwork List is getting too long to remember, and my friend, Motivation, seems to have stepped out for a cigarette. 

Case of the Mondays?

No, no, case of the ending semester.

I need to power up.

This week marks the last set of classes for my second year students and Wednesday, February 2, is the last day of class for my first years AND I just received confirmation that my contract will end the last day of February, leaving me with two and a half months to play. Just a few more classes and a couple more hours from recess? Sounds good to me.

I just found my red mushroom.

Oh, hey, Motivation…

Thailand Panoramas

Koh Phangan, New Years Eve

Koh Phangan, New Years Day

Cheweng Beach, Koh Samui

Cheweng Beach, Koh Samui

Koh Samui

View from the guesthouse in Kanchanaburi

View from the guesthouse in Kanchanaburi

Erawan Waterfalls, Kanchanaburi

Jab! Punch! Kick! Uppercut!

Sometime last week I had, what started out as a pretty normal day--woke up, went to work, went to the market, came home, and walked up the stairs and into my room. Then it turned abnormal. Out of nowhere Sadness comes charging at me from around the corner.  Jab! Punch! Kick! Uppercut! I never liked him. But I can't say this visit was all that random; I've been asking for one of his beatings with my mix of recent nostalgia (going through old pictures) and my decline of homeward calls. Sadness got me good, right in the pit of the stomach, leaving me slightly nauseous. What a dick.  Sitting and sulking is what he would want me to do, so that's exactly what I did not. I went out and played some pick up ball instead. A couple hours on the court did the job--got my mind off home and back on Thailand; but I still felt like I needed a little piece of home.

I got back to my house, chilled out for a bit, and my phone rings. It's mom and she says, "I woke up thinking about you and wanted to call," which was shortly followed by, "Okay, we have to go the phone bill will be high." She must have ESPN or something. I'm not a big believer in ridiculously "strong connections" that gives a person the ability to "sense" the other, so...it was one GARGANCHUAN (like the giant) coincidence. It was the first time I actually MISSED home. I did miss LA when I first got to Phetchaburi but that was because Mr. Culture Shock, too, paid me an unwelcomed visit (Rice & Lice Chronicles), not because of LA per se. Mom & dad sure came through though. There's something about talking to them that makes me feel that much better.

So, thanks, mom & dad. I love you! 

Even from across the Pacific, you guys can make me feel a billion times better.

Oh nostalgia...

526 Famiry with an R

The sisters

Parts of the San Juan & De Jesus clans

526 Famiry & Gettysburg Court roomies

Girlfriends Em, Dano, & Toddy

MJ & Ellie

my friends foreverrrrr: Dre, Ash, & Janette

two simple rules

I have two simple rules in class:

1. No cell phones
2. 0% on the assignment/test for cheating/copying/filling in answers for friends

If my students follow the rules, class will be fun--movies, music, games, etc. If they don't, well, vice versa. Throughout the however months I've been teaching, I've encountered cheating and copying (synonymous from here on out) as huge problems with my students. It's bizarre, considering their level of education. I'm not big on comparing America and Thailand but it's hard not to in this situation. If  students in an American college were caught cheating/plagiarizing or anything of that nature, they'd be dis-enrolled with a snap of the finger.

Before I go on, let me explain how testing works at this college:  If a student gets less than 50% on a test, they must retake the same exam, passing with no less than 60%. The first score stands as their grade while the second is just to ensure they understand the material. Retaining 50% of classroom material is mandatory to pass English class while it's 60% for each nursing subject.

Two students were caught cheating on the midterm I recently gave. Student A was copying another student during the actual test (December 20) and student B was copying answers written on her ruler during her retest (January 18). After repeating my rules day after day and before any assignment/test, I don't feel any remorse or pity for wanting to slap their foreheads with a big fat red zero.  But will it happen? I don't know. Ultimately, the future grades of these students are not in my hands (even though I am their teacher). And! After a discussion with boss lady, apparently, it's more of an inconvenience to fail students because: 1) there won't be an English teacher at the school next semester and 2) it will cost their parents more money.

My frustrations go far beyond the simple fact of cheating and even further than the numerous times they've done it; students cheat because they can. If nothing is done to effectively correct this behavior, what's the point of teaching? I was told by one of the Thai English teachers that most students don't care about learning English because they don't need it, they're already on a career path that doesn't require much of the language outside of medical terms. If the students don't care and if the administration doesn't seem to either, again, what's the point? 

This clearly is not a case for economics but the Glass Ceiling theory comes to mind, explaining that advancement or success is impeded by a force invisible to the eye. In this case (and from my heavily-biased-butt-hurt observation), the administration's view of English as venial and their lack of urgency to address the issue are the impeding forces that contribute to the limited, half-assed efforts put forth by the students. If an administration is apathetic to the epidemic, it comes as no surprise that students will follow suit. All the blame, however, should not be placed on the administration. The students should know better and I could have very well done a better job ensuring everyone understood the material. But! Until cheating, copying, and plagiarism are seen as problematic and followed up with appropriate actions to deter future incidences, a perpetual cycle of pseudo-learning will continue.

The question is:  

What can I do to combat the cheating endemic among my first and second year students?

Any suggestions?

yee sip see (24): birthday update

How I survived my 24th birthday weekend without a single hangover or feeling like 100 Courics, I will never understand. BUT I'm sure not complaining. In the mornings, I was definitely slow to get up but when the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol, late night partying, and sleeping at dawn are apart of the nightly equation, morning density & chowderheadedness should be expected. Although we did venture to Sukhumvit for Narz Bar on Friday, my nights revolved around clubs and bars on Khao San Road. I partied with new friends (my Australian bff and the lovely Germans) and toasted with good friends and saw things that, well, are too disturbing to forget. A successful 24th it was.

Thanks for all the birthday greetings and to everyone that came out last weekend. I had a great time!

Check out some pictures...

Friday

 the fellas at the Happy Bar

Australian Mitch servin' up "The Mitch"

 Narz Bar

Saturday

Boat taxi during the day followed by a much needed nap

back at the Happy Bar

Birthday cake courtesy of the Happy Bar

 

seven people, one show, fourteen scarred eyes

24

I'm 24 on Saturday & I can't help but think how much older "24" sounds than "23". "24" is almost "25", "25" is considered mid-twenties. At "25" you round up to "30". holy shit, I'm almost 30! Talk about sounding ancient.

I'm laughing at myself as I write this because I'm really freaking myself out.

* deep breath *

Minor pre-quarter life crisis rant over and done with. Let's think bigger picture here. Considering that I'm going to live until I'm 110, "24" is not old. I still got 78% more life to go! HOLLA! 24 is good solid round number. 24 says, "I'm mature but know how to party," kinda like Richard Anderson's mullet in Macgyver (wow, pulled that name out of nowhere), or any mullet really, business in the front, party in the back. Okay maybe not so much like the popular 80s hairstyle but a similar concept. 

I've partied just about every year for my birthday since turning 21, recalling any other birthday prior to that is impossible. January 15, 2008 - 21! - while home from college, a random coffee night with a friend on January 14, turned into drinks at The Chalet in Eagle Rock at midnight. I praised the porcelain gods that night. January 15, 2009 - 22 - a late night dinner at Chili's in Seaside, CA. I think my birthday fell on a weekday, I'm sure I partied that weekend. I can't remember. January 15, 2010 - 23 - Dinner and tequila shots at Peppers, followed by pool at Blue Fin and more tequila, and praising the side of a buddy's car. my bad. January 15, 2011 - 24 - I'll be bringing in my 24th year of life partying in Bangkok most likely in a bar or a club somewhere on Khao San Road or near Sukhumvit, and I'll probably end my night going home with some random guy (JUST KIDDING, DAD! you can push you eyes back in their sockets. I'll at least let him buy me a drink first...ok, ok, still joking. relax.).

What makes this year different from any other birthday, besides the fact that I know when to stop drinking, is my mindset. I see things and think differently from a year ago. The difference between now and then is that I know I can turn my ideas into dreams (reference to my very first blog). 24 is where my adventure begins. I welcome 24 and 2011, with an open mind, unattached, and as free as a bird. Ahhh, romanticism...I'll end with this:

24 and 2011, prepare to be owned. 

<3 kj

Weekend-centricity: another teaching reflection...finally

I got an email from Ninang Diana (Ninang means Godmother in Tagalog) this morning that ended like this “You make THAILAND sound so exciting. I‘m so glad you’re enjoying your job/vacation (whatever comes first). Just kidding!” Smart woman.

I’m trying to slow dance with Travel, but Teaching’s cutting in.

In almost three full months of teaching, only one teaching reflection. I came to Thailand hired to teach English to nursing students…or did I? I came to Thailand to make money to travel. Big difference. I realized this my first week here when a lot of folks were talking about all the teaching materials they brought and how much teaching experience they had. I brought nothing and the closest thing to “teaching experience” is………does training someone at work count?

I like teaching, but I LOVE traveling. Catch Me if You Can’s weekend-centricity is proof. My interest in traveling over teaching English, though, should not disregard the greatness of the job. Teaching is challenging but being in the classroom is so much fun and not to mention my students are great.

But like any other job there are some drawbacks…like having to sit in a dungeon of a cubicle for 25 of the 40 work hours. By the end of the day, I’m pulling my hair out and silently going ape shit. Or like…having to grade class work/tests; I just finished grading their midterms—155 students, 10 pages of midterm, 1550 pages for me to grade. I don’t know why I did that to myself. The pile sat on my desk for a couple of days because it was so overwhelming. One thing’s for sure their final will be much shorter with scantron. Guaranteed. However, I recently discovered the art of having them grade their own papers. I took it back to elementary school days and have them pass their papers to the person sitting behind them.

Anyway, long story short teaching is cool, but traveling is cooler. Would I teach English abroad again? Absolutely. Teaching is a great means to traveling. I make enough money to do what I want and I am able to learn about the culture on a more intimate level. I’m also fortunate enough to have a coordinator who is willing to work with my travel plans.

Pictures from a lesson on conversations: responses to "How are you?"

After discussing what each one meant, I had them draw facial expressions for each feeling.

*photos are backwards because they were taken with my laptop cam on photobooth*

sausages in neon daisy dukes

New Years, New Years, New Years… In one word: EPIC.

I knew there was no other way to bring in the New Year than with the Koh Phangan Count Down Party (aka Full Moon Party).  If you've never heard of a Full Moon Party, google it.

The entire beach was a party... Photo taken by Zach

Think: long strip of beach, music blasting, fire displays and flashing lights, thousands and thousands and thousands of people covered in neon body paint, dancing and drinking and going absolutely insane…

* Take note as to how may girls you see in the videos *

With a couple of beers down, I was in the middle of it all.  Watching the video is certainly no substitute for experiencing an actual Full Moon Party but at least now you have an idea of what went on that night. I can't even begin to describe the anarchy that ensued. The beach was lined with bars and vendors selling buckets of alcohol, where you were able to pick your poison: cheap vodka or Thai whiskey. There were so many dance parties up and down the beach, it was easy to get lost. People were walking/standing/dancing shoulder to shoulder in some areas. pureeee madness.

Part of my night was dedicated to sitting on the beach and people watching—the progression of people from their pre, during, to post-drunken phases will never cease to amuse me; people got crazier and crazier by early morning and nobody cared! Everyone was in their own little world, doing what they felt they needed to do...  

Fast forward to 6:30am the next morning…people were still going strong.

* Take note as to how may girls you see in the videos *  

That morning was pretty gross. On our ferry to Koh Samui, the next island over, people were sitting hunched back and staring off into space (if not passed out) with bags under their eyes and body paint peeling off their exhausted bodies. Some people were walking around with fresh cuts, scrapes, and bandages on their flip-flopless-alcohol-and-dirt-stained-feet from the broken glass scattered along the beach. It was a battle field out there.

How I survived that night without a scratch or feeling like complete and utter crap, the world may never know. But I’m ready for the next one...

Before the Party

After the Party...

I can only imagine some of the things the clean up crew found the next day...

Last thing...

If I had to complain about anything, it would be this: the island was taken over by sausages in neon daisy dukes. The ratio of guys to girls had to be something like 4:1 probably even more. Now, I'm usually not one to complain about something like that because more guys means more choices for me (semi-kidding). BUT the vast majority of these guys were your stereotypical bros--meatheads with unproportional bodies (A.C. Slater's upper body but Screech's legs), walking around with their chest out, arms semi-flexed, and neon shorts. I just threw up a little in my mouth.

2011, you will be mine.

dammit. I misspoke. The longer this takes, then the longer it will take to upload* whateverrrr. :)