And You Always Said Hello

After next week, my first semester at Ban Huaymongkol will officially come to a close. The constant fury of lesson planning, staff meetings, and school events are going to come to a halt (mostly) for the month of October. My students will take their English final exam, then be on their way to ride their bikes or play soccer from sun up to sun down.

I wrote the letter you are about to read knowing that they would probably never see it, and even if they did they probably would not know what it meant. But it still felt important to put into words. I think it encompasses my experiences of my first semester fairly well so I wanted to share it on this blog:

Dear Students, 

I am writing you from my living room couch the night before your final exams begin. You're almost done! Another semester has come and gone. I know you're relieved and ready for a break, just as much as your teachers are. 

I will confess something to all of you: when I first started thinking about you taking the final exam, I was nervous. You all have worked so hard this semester, and I wanted these scores to prove that. I wrote a test, then crumpled it up and wrote another test, and then crumpled THAT test. They were too easy or too hard or too long or too short. I began to panic slightly. It had to show the school what I have seen from you. 

You really stuck with me from day one, you know. You could have stared at me, mouths agape on the first day as this strange white lady walked into the classroom you know so well and started waving her arms at you like a crazy person. But you didn't. You came in, sat at the same tables you had sat at for years, and looked up at me, like "alright strange white lady, let's get to work!"

You played the games in class as if they were deciders of life or death. You squawked at me if I forgot to put a point in your table's point jar. You became completely disinterested and disconnected if I was not teaching something well enough. You'd scratch your heads and stare at every flashcard intensely as I asked you to tell me the word before leaving the classroom. 

But it isn't just your performance in the classroom that I am extremely grateful for. 

Some of you know what it's like to be the "new kid," and some of you have lived here your whole life and do not. Either way, I'd like you to know that I felt like the "new kid," when I first arrived. Adults would stare at me. My greetings were often met with quick head nods and an even quicker escape. I would hear my name and then a string of Thai, and was paranoid about what they could be saying. It was hard. They were wary of me. 

But you weren't. 

At first, I was Kru Farang to you. You couldn't really remember my name, but you knew who I was, and you had questions that needed to be answered. Where did you come from? What are these brown spots all over your arms and legs? Why are you so tall? Why are you answering all of these questions by just nodding your head and saying "yes!" ??

You were honest in every interaction we had. If you were having a good day, you told me about it, either by telling me in Thai knowing full well I wouldn't understand, or playing an elaborate game of charades. If you were having a bad day, you would get mad, or cry, and we would sit in each other's company and try to read the other person's thoughts. 

And no matter what day you were having, you always said hello. I know you don't know this, but those five thousand hello's were the fuel I ran on this semester. Those chipper, loud, 7am HELLO's that said "doesn't matter if you're ready or not for us, Kru Farang, cuz here we are!" 

Eventually, the hello's were accompanied by hugs, then by more exchanged pleasantries that I finally began to understand, and even in calling me Kru Emily or just Emily. You would repeat the sentences to me that we had learned the day before, or try to trick me into thinking there was a snake in my shirt, or ask me to show you pictures of my sisters. 

And these moments, I can safely say, are moments I could not have done without this semester. 

We've come so far as a school, as a community, and as a family. We laugh together, cry together, and celebrate every single victory. We are really starting to feel like a we, and I cannot wait to solidify that even more. 

So, after much reflection, much rewriting, and many breakdowns, I have decided that the scores you get on this test only mean so much to me. Your teachers, including myself, know how hard you have worked. We know your excitement to learn, your excitement to help, and your excitement to grow. As long as you have excitement, you can do anything. I know because I've seen it. Screw the tally up of correct answers on this test. 

Thank you for your hard work. Thank you for your questions, your frustrations, and your stories.

And above all else, thank you for always saying hello.

All my love,
Kru Emily