School Daze Part 2 - The Kids

In the last post, I talked about the beautifully situated physical grounds of our school.  In this post, I'd like to describe the fine education that our kids are getting, including the extracurricular opportunities Piti Suksa offers.

To begin, every school day begins at 8:00 with the flag raising ceremony.  Students line up in the courtyard facing the flagpole with teachers and parents watching from the wings.  Two students are chosen to slowly raise the flag after another student makes the announcement:  "Attention!  Please respect our our religion, our country and our monarchy by singing the National Anthem!" at which point the students all sing the National Anthem together (in Thai).  If all is timed well, the flag reaches the top just as the students finish the anthem.  Next comes the singing of the school song (in English).  This is a fantastic song that was written by one of the teachers here.  The lyrics are as follows and sung in a marching rhythm.

        We are the children, we are the future.
        We are role models to one another.
        Unity in diversity!
        We are a caring community.

        Learning is fun at Piti Suksa
        Seekers of knowledge
        With focus and freedom
        Learning is fun at Piti Suksa
        Learn to love and love to live

        Interdependent and independent
        Within a natural environment
        Working as one to reach our peak
        With love and kindness we are unique

        Learning is fun at Piti Suksa
        Seekers of knowledge
        With focus and freedom
        Learning is fun at Piti Suksa
        Learn to love and love to live

After the school song is completed, students and teachers bow to each other and they all walk to their classrooms.

The class starts, like most Montessori classes, with Circle Time.  In Jessica's class, this is the time where she talks with the students about virtues.  There is a different virtue every week, but some of the recent ones have been honesty, respect, and forgiveness.

After Circle Time, students have 3 hours of independent work time where they have a set list of tasks to accomplish, but can do so at their own pace and in the order they choose.  On some days, a teacher will come in from another room and give a presentation on topics like Thai culture and history, health enhancement, or any other general education subject.  But whatever the day or special presentation, students line up in the canteen for lunch at 12:00.

When a student finishes his/her lunch, the student gives their plates, bowls and silverware (or chopsticks) a preliminary wash and rinse and then is free to play on the playground until one o'clock.  Now the interesting thing about recess is that there is almost never any conflict between students.  At the public school the kids attended back home, there were always conflicts and they never seemed to get resolved to anyone's satisfaction.  What is the difference?  From my perspective, in Montessori schools, teachers spend a lot of time teaching peace and conflict resolution or prevention through effective communication strategies.  Then, on the playground, the teachers are also on hand and paying close attention to how the students speak to each other, and if necessary, can step in and remind them about being respectful to each other.  In my experience in American public schools, there's almost no time or energy spent on teaching kids how to get along or why they should in the first place.  And on the playground, it's a free for all.  In fact, at our last school, there were only one or two playground monitors, and they weren't even teachers.  They had no training or experience dealing with children, let alone any kind of responsibility for teaching conflict resolution.  Is that because there are no communication/conflict resolution questions on standardized tests?

Regardless, after recess, and depending on the day, students have 2 hours of club time.  This can mean 2 hours of gardening, football, Thai dance (Suni's club), Lacrosse (Radd's club) or cooking.  On Wednesdays however, the students have Scouts.  This is mandatory for all students on Thailand, regardless of the school's status as public or private.  "Scouts" is a lot like Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts in the U.S., but 1) it's mandatory, and 2) the uniforms are a lot cooler, especially for the boys. I really like how all scouts are required to have a length of red rope on their hips at all times, you know, in case they need rope.

After school, many students take either Ukulele or Violin lessons at the school, except when they take my special English class.  Beginning today, I am teaching English for a few select students whose parents and teachers feel they need a little help.  I am really excited to have a little time 4 days a week to interact with these kids.  From the small experiences I've had with them so far, I know it's going to be great fun and the kids will improve  quickly.

Overall, the school is similar in a lot of ways to an American Montessori school, in that it creates its own tight knit community, fosters peaceful interaction between students, and allows for individual choice and expression between students.  On the other hand, it is also uniquely Thai in its organization, respect for Thai culture, and promotion of clubs and after school lessons.  But it's most special to us because, as I said in part 1, it is the center of our lives here and it's the people who make it such a caring, welcoming and beautiful environment.

School Daze Part 1 - The Grounds

Last night on the back porch, as Jess and I shared our Chang in a glass, we were remarking about how it's such a relief that the school (Piti Suksa Montessori School) is so good.  This is the place that supplies our income, our visas, my wife's work day, our children's education and the main attractor that brought us to Chiang Rai out of all the other cities in Thailand.  So we are grateful that the kids are happy there, it's a beautiful and safe environment, and everyone is so friendly.  Just imagine if this vital part of our existence here were a nightmare.  Our whole life would become a nightmare as well. But it's not, so I guess we shouldn't dwell, hmm?

Now, since the school is such a fine place, I thought I would write about what it's like, how it's similar or different to American schools, and just give a general description of the space.  Honestly, it really deserves some recognition.

Like most houses in Chiang Rai, and Thailand in general, the whole property is surrounded by a larger concrete wall.  Now, observing these walls from an outsider's perspective, I thought they were for safety, to keep bad people from getting into the house (or school.)  But it was explained to me that this is not the case.  Thailand is an extremely safe country, relative to the United States, for example. The purpose of the walls and gates are less for safety and more just to define one's home.  I was told that Asians in general like to have a feeling of personal space where they can choose to let people in or not.  Upon reflection, I think Westerners like to do this as well, though we tend to construct our fences out of cedar and we stop at the driveway.  Thais go all the way around the house, including the driveway, to really give you a sense of privacy, solitude, and yes - even safety.  But I digress...
At the front of the property, there are two gates, in and out, and a little guard shack, where Uncle Sue sits at drop off and pick up time.  He's not really a guard.  In fact, he's more of a jack of all trades.  But when he's positioned at the entrance, his job is to direct traffic in and out of the school, since it's a narrow road, the school is situated on a bend in said road, and it's almost impossible to see if traffic is coming in either direction when pulling out of the property.  Are you wondering about his name? You are, aren't you?  Ok, Uncle Sue is the English translation of his Thai name, which I can't spell.  But suffice it to say that Sue is not a female name in Thailand, and "Uncle" is an affectionate term.  He's an extremely kind, gentle, older man who lives at the back of the property with his wife.  Though we can't communicate well due to our total lack of a mutual language, I love this man.  He has the kindest nature you can imagine.  He's always smiling and is very playful.  His is a great face to see when you pull into school first thing in the morning!

And when you do pull into the school gate, you are pulling into a mid-sized parking lot dotted with large shade trees.  At the end of the parking lot is the drop off area where a member of the faculty is always stationed to greet parents and students with a bow, a smile, and a "sawat dee ka!"  Another great way to start the school day.

Walk past the teacher down a long, covered walkway to the school entrance, between the office and library and you see the huge playground.  And though this playground doesn't have a $150,000 boutique jungle gym with shredded tires for safety, it is every bit a child's paradise.  There are more large shade trees with colorfully painted tires hanging at various heights, ropes stretched between trees for climbing and hanging and general monkey business, swings, bamboo climbing structures, and a covered gym with foam padded floor for when it's raining or just too hot to be in the sun.

Situated in a U shape around the playground are the classrooms, which belong to a low, flat-roofed, concrete building whose class doors open out toward the playground.  In the middle of the U is the "canteen" where the kids eat at several small tables.  The food, by the way, is delicious and the kids can eat as much as they want.  I ate there yesterday, as I was volunteering in Jess' class, and I ate a soup, not unlike a Vietnamese Pho.  It was a bone broth with rice noodles, chicken, green onions, cilantro and a mix of spicy tomato sauce and ground meat.  I had two bowls as the kids laughed at my running nose and watery eyes.  Spicy heaven!

The classrooms themselves are classic Montessori with well organized lessons lining the shelves and a common area for Circle Time.  They all have wall and ceiling mounted fans, and Jess' classroom even has an air conditioner.  Besides the one in the office, I think it's the only one in the school.

Next, I'll describe the kids' days at school, their uniforms, clubs and other fun stuff.  Stay tuned!

Field Trip!

Looking at a map of Northern Thailand, you will quickly locate the two largest and most popular cities for tourists:  Chiang Mai and Chiang Rai.  Dotting the map all around these two destinations are hundreds of tiny villages with names that are easily forgettable to Western, non-Thai speaking people. Some examples might be Phu Chee Fah, Tha Ton, Soppong, or Fang.  Ok, that last one is an exception, but it's probably safe to say that the average reader of this blog has never heard of any of these places before.  As a new resident of Chiang Rai, I hadn't either until I started studying the map and asking local residents about desirable road trip destinations.  Among the top of the list of places to visit (outside of our own little city) came several names that have now become familiar to me. These are Mae Salong, Chiang Saen, and Mae Sai.

Having a three day weekend due to the Queen's birthday and Mother's Day, we decided to take a little road trip to check out one of these little burgs and learn about our country.  The village we chose was Mae Salong, also known as Doi Mae Salong, also known as Santikhiri.  More on that later....
So off we set in our glorified go-kart, the Toyota Soluna, on a misty Saturday morning, feeling a little like the Griswolds looking for Walley World, but instead bound for tea and coffee plantations, hill tribes, and cloud level views of the mountains of northern Thailand.      

The trip really began once we got onto what the locals call the "super highway", or highway 1, which leads north and south through town.  We took the road north and almost immediately were in territory new to us, as we had yet to travel past the airport or supermarket on this road.  Soon after we past the familiar places, we noticed large pineapple plantations and small pineapple stands began to line the highway.  And when I say they "lined the highway," I mean they were spread apart by about 20 meters, one after another, for miles on both sides of the road.  This made Jess and I wonder about Thai business practices, competition, and the phrase "location, location, location."
Further on up the road, the highway splits and we took the road less traveled.  Literally, because it was a smaller road and most people don't go on that one....

Once on road 107, we drove through a narrow valley that was filled mostly with rice and banana fields along with the occasional resort or home stay or other small business - nothing remarkable except for its overwhelming feeling of fertility and life.  107 winds on for about 20 kilometers at a slow steady climb, but then suddenly seems to rise in altitude.  After a few steeper pitches, the road splits yet again  - this time at a police checkpoint.  However, we didn't have to go through it because the checkpoint was set up just after the turn we made.  My guess was that they were really more interested in people coming in from the Myanmar border to the west than heading farther north.  Now on our last road heading to Mae Salong, the reader must understand that roads like this don't really exist in the United States.  Such extreme inclines and declines are probably considered either too dangerous or too difficult for some vehicles (or drivers) to manage.  Adding to the difficulty of driving up the steep slopes were the extreme curves in the road.  Left and right, up and down, very little in the way of guard rails but a lot in the way of tempting scenery to stare at, I steered the Soluna with two tight fists, except when I was downshifting into low gear to crawl up the side of a mountain.

On and on we drove.  The whole while I was vividly imagining the timing belt snapping or the brakes burning up and giving out, but then we spotted a sign welcoming us to Mae Salong.  One last short, steep climb and we pulled into the first business in town:  a Chinese tea shop.  And now would probably be an appropriate time to tell you what we learned about this little town and its fascinating history.

When the Chinese Revolution took place in 1949, Mao Zedong's communist army fought and chased off Chiang Kai-Shek's democratic army all the way to Taiwan.  But in the Yunnan Province, north of Thailand, Burma, Laos and Vietnam, the pro-democratic forces were trapped and were forced to fight their way south into Burma (uninvited) to escape.  The communists took over China, but for the men from Yunnan, the war was far from over.  They plotted their revenge and eventual re-takeover of China, with the help of the CIA and Taiwan, of course.  The army tried several times to march back into Yunnan and establish a foothold, but were repelled each time, despite their American weapons and CIA advisers.  Finally, the Chinese Communists, along with troops from Burma, swept in to destroy the KMT troops, as they were known by some.  But the KMT retreated into Laos and Thailand.  One of the divisions eventually came to settle Mae Salong.  The story goes on and gets more interesting with the addition of opium growing, heroin refining, arms deals, mercenary opportunities, and the eventual peace and citizenship granting of the Chinese troops by the Thai government in 1982.  So today, the town is known for it Yunnanese food and culture, tea and coffee growing (instead of poppies) and having a lot of Chinese tourists who've no doubt heard about this strange place in Thailand populated with descendants of ex-Chinese troops mixed with Thai hill tribes.  And hence the Chinese tea shop at the beginning of the town!

The shop was actually really cool.  Jess and I wanted to buy just about everything we saw - beautiful porcelain tea sets, Chinese lanterns, intricately carved wooden trinkets.  But my practical senses overtook me and I declared that we couldn't spend all our money at the first shop in town, so off we went to explore the rest of Mae Salong.  Another half kilometer further and we came to what I guess passes for the main area of town.  There's a small market on the left, set up under blue plastic tarps, a hill tribe market on the right, even smaller than the other market on the left, and rows of stalls selling almost exactly the same products: imported Chinese stuff.  To be fair, the imported Chinese stuff was actually pretty good stuff - dried fruits, of which we bought several varieties, various flavors of tea, a few bottles of fruit wine that tasted like it was made in a hurry, and the most delicious nuts we'd ever tried.  We chose the shop that had a sign advertising the free use of their toilet, and like the other tourists who step off the buses and see the same sign, paid handsomely for the fruit and nuts.

After visiting both markets and purchasing a hill tribe dress for Suni (140 baht, negotiated expertly by Jess down from 200 baht), we looked for a place to get lunch.  We found a restaurant situated up on a hill overlooking the town and ate an unremarkable dish of chicken and rice,  Afterwards, we climbed a little further up the hill to get a look at a small tea plantation.  Then we decided to get back in the car and drive farther into town to find the large tea plantation that we had read about before coming.  Along the way, we spotted a coffee shop on a sharp bend, perched over the valley.  I ordered a cappuccino, a drink I never order, but was blown away by the quality and the experience of drinking it while watching purple storm clouds blow into the valley over the ridges to the north.  At this point I was feeling a little underwhelmed by the town itself, but could imagine staying at a hotel here with this view before me and just enjoying being on this spot on Earth for a day or two.  Maybe just one.

On to the plantation!  Or not.  We received directions from the barista on which direction to travel in, but due to a lack of signage, it took us several tentative minutes to stumble upon the place we were looking for.  And when we found ourselves there, we still weren't sure if we were there at all.  There were no people, no shop, no factory, no welcome - just a collection of large concrete dragon statues in need of repair, a few small huts, and an untrustworthy looking swing for the kids.  But we snapped a few pictures of the tea growing on the hill sides, took a couple deep breaths, and then Russ, Audrey, Ellen and I got back into the Griswold station wagon with the dog tied to the bumper and headed home.

Now, as a little postscript, the name of the town Mae Salong has officially been changed by the Thai government to Santikhiri, which means "hill of peace."  Following the history of the town from the Chinese Revolution to the Opium Wars, the town definitely deserves this new title, but apparently things like this are slow to change, as we've never heard anyone refer to the town by this new name and rarely see it written as such on any maps.

 

Checking In with the Kids

Way back when, Jess and I talked about doing a year abroad somewhere, just to, you know, have an adventure (whatever that means).  The moment this idea was vocalized, I immediately had visions of lush greenery, mouth watering food, maybe a tropical beach, lots of flip flip and tank top wearing, exotic animals, and well, some sort of adventure.  The next, more realistic, thought that came to mind was how the kids would feel about living somewhere around 10,000 miles out of their comfort zone.  Would we live to regret dragging them halfway around the world?  Would there be a mutiny?  Would the shock of living in a totally different culture trigger some latent anger or abandonment issues?  The resounding answer from friends and family was "Hell no!  They'll learn a lot.  They'll grow as people.  They'll be forever changed."  Of this, I have no doubt already.  So, as we near our one month mark on this year long experiment, I thought I'd delve into how the kids are faring and what their impressions and feelings about their native country currently are.

 The quick and easy response to the question, "And how are the kids doing?" is "They're OK."  In fact, upon reflection, I'd say they are doing better than I thought they would, which is to say, "They're OK."  My fears of a complete and total system malfunction are, so far anyway, unwarranted.  That isn't to say we haven't had tears or some seemingly unjustified lashing out.  Both kids have expressed some unhappiness about being away from home and all that entails.  On the other hand, considering the situation, they've also had a lot of laughs, met some friends, learned a ton, and grown together as siblings.

Case in point:  A few nights ago, Suni was having a bit of a meltdown near bedtime when Radd came in with a glass of water for her, some soothing words and a back rub.  I thought my eyes must be deceiving me.  Was it the heat/humidity combination causing hallucinations?  Nope.  Just a big brother learning how to be a better big brother and maybe a little sister learning how to let her big brother care for her.  Suni has also taken some real giant steps froward, learning some Thai, making Thai friends and showing interest in making her own art supplies (I honestly have no idea about that one). 

Now, is this a direct result of living in Thailand?  I cannot say.  This is something amazing to see, but who's to say it wouldn't have happened at home?  If it were just one instance, I'd brush it off, but what I've seen has been a pattern of behavior that has shifted in some way.  Perhaps it's a feeling of solidarity brought on by the circumstances of being in Thailand, the place where both of them were born and given up for adoption, and where we, Jess and I, came to bring them home with us to start and grow our family.  Or maybe it's the dang heat - I don't know.  But I do know that you all were right.  One month into this, the evidence of the profound impact you predicted is beginning to show.

So far, if you asked them, the kids would still say that they want to go home.  They miss Bozeman.  They miss their friends.  They miss their house.  But the cracks in their walls are showing.  Every time we go swimming, see an impressive sight, meet a kind stranger, experience a new and delicious food or just spend time on the back porch listening to the raucous croaking of the bullfrogs after a storm, I can see the appreciation for this place twinkling in their eyes.  So, I can now say, there's been some lush greenery, almost daily flip flop wearing, a little exotic animal feeding, and a lot of great Thai food.  And the adventure, I've discovered, is watching our kids negotiate their world and turn the experience into knowledge, understanding, and memories that will last a lifetime. 

Now, which way to the beach?


 

Another Pleasant Valley Sunday

Jess and I absolutely love living in this house mainly for one reason: the covered back patio is spacious and comfortable.  It's a place where we can sit after dinner, just the two of us, and share a cold Chang while we listen to the sounds of tropical birds, geckos, frogs, crickets, and the nightly thunderstorms that pass through in the monsoon season.  The view is of lush green foliage towering over our garden wall, rolling clouds illuminated by occasional lightning flashes, and the air is cool and scented with rain.  These moments make living away from family and friends and the place we love bearable.

What I personally do not like about this house is maintaining the property.  We are happy to have this relatively huge lawn for the kids to play in and for our own feelings of privacy and elbow room; however, as I discovered yesterday, mowing the lawn on a hot Thai afternoon is not the same as it is back home.  

To begin, the mower is kept in a small but well built and attractive shed in the corner of the property.  Once I removed the padlock on the door, I braced myself for what I might see when I swung the door open.  A coiled up cobra?  A nest of angry venomous arachnids? Thankfully, I saw the lawnmower only.  The shed is remarkable devoid of creepy crawlies, which is most fortunate for me, since I am debilitatingly creepycrawlyphobic.  So I backed the mower out of the shed and pushed it to the front of the house, which has the longest grass.  I figured I should start with the longest grass in case I get tired.  That way, at least I can quit with the feeling that the yard has been improved by my weak, but well-intentioned, effort, should I fail to complete the project in one day.

But this is the part of the story that irks me the most.  It's the part where I prove to myself, yet again, that there are mechanically inclined people in the world, and there are people like me, who, despite a basic understanding of the inner workings of a small internal combustion engine, act like an ape discovering a new object in his zoo enclosure.  At first, I felt confident because I located the fuel on/off switch right away.  Then I scanned the machine for any sort of priming contraption it might have.  Not seeing any, I assumed I was ready to begin pulling the cord and mowing away.  Hahaha, I say bitterly.  After pulling like a mad man for 5 minutes and exhausting myself, I took another look around for any levers, slides, switched or buttons I may have missed on my initial scan.  Nothing.  I started pulling again, the slightest trickle of sweat beginning to appear on my temple.  The engine sounded like it couldn't be bothered to start on a sunny Sunday, such as it was.  I glanced across the street at the two ladies on the porch watching me.  I looked again.  This time, like a hand coming out of the mower and slapping me across the face, I saw the throttle on the left hand side of the push bar.  The throttle!  With the choke and everything?  The throttle!  With the picture of the rabbit and the turtle and the CHOKE!  One pull with the choke on and the mower started right up.  I glanced across the street again with a tiny, sheepish grin on my sweaty lips.

Once I had the mower going, it was smooth sailing for a little while.  Smooth except for the fact that I realized immediately that this mower had no self-propulsion option.  This realization did not have any immediate effect on me since it was only 8 AM and the sun was on the other side of the house.  But after an hour of pushing, I made my way around to the North side, where the sun light had already come up over the trees and had started heating up the air.  That's when I noticed that the front of my shirt was darkening with sweat.  In fact, the sweat pattern looked as if it were in the exact shape and position of my lungs, which were working double time by this point.

When I finished the North side, I had to take a break.  My breathing was ragged and the sweat was now pouring into my eyes, stinging and blinding me, so I sat in the shade of the aforementioned patio.  Radd brought me a glass of ice water with a twist of lime.  Oh, bless you my boy!  But I soon remembered the clock was ticking.  It was after 9 now, we were expecting guests at 11, and there was still a lot of preparations to be made.  Back to work on the East side.  At this point I had to remove my shirt and tie it over my head to stop the sweat from pouring both behind and over the front of my glasses.  My view was of a windshield driving through the rain with no wipers.

This time I could only work for 45 minutes before quitting for the day.  I was completely spent.  My body was pouring sweat like it was a mountain spring.  My arms and legs went on strike.  My skin burned from it's extended interaction with the southeast Asian sun with its UV index of 10 and a humidity level around 80%.  I decided to take a cold shower.

After wards, I felt slightly refreshed and a lot cleaner, but just 5 minutes later, I realized the sweating continued and would not be stopped by a brief rinse.  There was only one thing to do:  close the door, start up the AC in the bedroom and stand before it for 10 minutes.  But because of the fact that the AC is high up on the wall and blows in an oscillating fashion, I was forced to stand on the bed, facing the wall, to get the cool air to consistently hit my body.  This finally stemmed the flow of perspiration, and I was able to dress and carry on with the day, which by the way, was as fun and relaxing of a day as we've had since we've been here.

Alas, the mowing is not finished, nor is the weed whacking.  It's a good project for today though, with the clouds filling the sky and the sun safely blocked away behind them.  All I have to do is find the discipline to open that shed again, but what will I see when I look inside? I don't want to find out.               

The Big White Buddha

Jessica's school is about 7 km from our house, and about halfway between the two sits the Big White Buddha.  We see it twice a day as we commute to and from school, sitting there all blissful atop a lotus flower.  Well, last night we decided to go visit Buddha and see the temple next door. Unfortunately, all the signs were in Thai and there was no one there to guide us or explain anything in English, so we were left to interpret everything ourselves, which is to say, gawk and wonder alone. But these images are perhaps all that need to be said.  It's a very powerful place, especially the top of the temple, which has 9 floors.  I actually felt as if gravity increased with every level we rose.  By the time we got to the last floor, I felt stooped over, unable to straighten easily.  But the views of Chiang Rai were breathtaking.  You could really get a sense of how mountainous a region it is.  I'l let the pictures speak for themselves though.

Photographs

I didn't have time to actually take these photographs with an actual camera.

The sun hiding behind a bat-shaped cloud, emitting rays of hope.  Underneath, a smiley-faced girl sits atop her brother's shoulders chest deep in an azure pool.  7th birthday is a good one.


Village road being overtaken by jungle.  Puddles reach across with vines and fallen debris.  Street lights long abandoned standing in the background, now silently watching , thinking about the economy.

Purple storm clouds overhead.  Battered Japanese sedans moving as one, front to end, end to front. T-shirts, shorts, and flip flops holding plastic shopping bags outside the market.  Red and blue lights spinning dizzy atop a minivan ambulance.  Hands to mouths, eyes wide.  Two feet poking out from underneath a white death shroud, one socked, one not.  Crumpled motorbike carefully removed from traffic.

Light-duty pickup overloaded with human labor strains into traffic ahead of hurrying commuters. Motor bikers swerve to avoid rear-ending.  Teenager turns and shakes angry fist as he passes on right. Front wheel wobbles out of control.  Collective gasps.  He recovers.

Green behind green behind green.  Green-treed hills behind a green rice paddy behind green viney jungle behind a rows of green pineapple plants.