The Monks Make a Visit

Dear D,
This is actually from yesterday, because I wasn't able to get online. Anyway, an interesting story!

I walked to school today in anxiety and anticipation—my second day in the classroom! When I arrived in the ESL office, there was no one else there, no scampering feet in the halls or classrooms and a distant, amplified voice—which I recognized as the principal P—droned through campus. I wondered if maybe morning assembly had run long, but felt sure it would be over soon. Twenty minutes later J rolled up to the office and convinced me to go check out the assembly. His co-teacher had told him about it already, whereas no one had mentioned it to me. We went to the assembly hall (the floor above the cafeteria) and crept to the door. All 800 or so of the students were seated on the floor, girls on the right, boys on the left. The kids closest to the door twisted around towards the door to grin at us. Reluctant to cause a disturbance in the assembly hall, I headed back down the stairs, until the teacher P came out of the hall to usher me and J inside. The teachers sat on low, tiled shelves along the sides of the hall and J and I took our places besides K and M. Once seated I was able to appreciate just how many students were in the hall; rows and rows of pressed white shirts and shiny, black heads filled the floor space. I turned my attention back to principal P, who had not stopped talking during all this time. He continued to talk (what about? I could not know) in the same even tone at the same even pace for the next half hour. The students fidgeted, but their movements and voices never amounted to more than a murmur. It was incredible. After principal P was done, a woman in a khaki uniform, who reminded me of Mrs. Umbridge from Harry Potter took the mic and talked for a while. She said something and all of a sudden all of the students were in the half lotus with their hands folded in their laps, eyes closed, faces relaxed. I had never been in a room with so many mini buddhas before, but I reminded myself that kids are still rambunctious, no matter how well-trained, as I watched the boys in front of me shift, slouch, and progress to hitting each other between furtive glances at the teachers. I understood the furtiveness when thwack, a teacher brought a switch across a boy’s shoulders as his head dipped in a doze. His eyes popped open, unfocused and red-glazed with sleep, but he straightened up. The meditating went on and on. Many more heads dipped.

I learned from P that the assembly was for the number one most famous monk in Thailand, prah Sompong, who arrived a while later, straight from the Phuket airport. I couldn’t place his age (it’s really hard in Thailand), but he had a round, pink face, a buzz cut, glasses and a huge smile. His partner was similarly round, but a rich brown with no glasses. They both wore bright, tangerine orange robes intricately twisted around their bodies. Prah Sompong turned out to be something of a stand up comedian and kept the children laughing for about a half an hour. He led them in different call and response drills about how to be a good person. After a while his partner took over while students and teachers served prah Sompong a tasty-looking lunch. The brown partner kept things lively for a while, calling for a volunteer from among the students to demonstrate how to kowtow to a monk properly. Definitely not something you’d see in the States. Numerous guidebooks have told me that to touch a child on his or her head is very disrespectful in Thailand, based on the body hierarchy (the head being the most sacred and the feet the least), but today a lot of the adults were touching kids on the head. Maybe it is disrespectful when a farang (foreigner/white person) does it. Anyway. Then the monks turned on some soft music, and the brown monk spoke softly for a long time while everyone had their eyes closed in what looked like meditation or prayer. Then the music became a little louder and some of the students stood up, one here, one there, in odd little clusters. P said that the monk had just asked those students who had lost parents in the 2004 tsunami to stand up. Some of the students were crying. Then a row of chairs was brought to the front of the hall and numerous teachers, including principal P and other adults sat in the chairs, some weeping. Then the monk said that the students were everyone’s children and that the teachers and adults were their parents. The standing students filed to the front and were paired with seated adults, whom they knelt before and whose laps they placed their heads. The adults caressed the students’ heads and shoulders. The monks brought the orchestral symphony up and the weeping and strings filled the hall. I had the most enormous lump in my throat. The ritual seemed so performative, but sincere, it reminded me a little of those ultra Christian churches that get the scary documentaries made about them.

Afterward the students went back to their places on the floor. A pudgy boy walked by pulling at the corners of his eyes and I watched some of his classmates snigger at him. That made the lump in my throat worse. Then the monks played a video clip of the king (from a laptop, on a projector, hi-tech monks!) and everyone stood to attention. The brown monk provided commentary in a loud, brazen voice. The video clip began again and everyone sang the anthem.

Then the assembly was over and the photo opportunities began. When the other ESL teachers and I left, some of the Thai teachers were ordering the students into rows for another photograph.

I spent hours today trying to figure out how to make my laptop connect by Ethernet to the school’s LAN. Still no progress.

I spent a few hours doing jigsaw puzzles with students after class. Oh, and I didn't have my one class today because of the assembly.

***

Last night I kept waking myself up with dreams about SNL because I was laughing out loud! Today I had two classes back to back starting from 8:30 AM. The first class was a sophomore class, but their English is amazing! We did a relay race to fill in a family tree, which got everyone really energized. My students think adding "great-great-etc.." to grandmother and grandfather is hysterical because it sound like a duck. They mimicked me with "gwegwegwe!" I had to do a Tarzan yell for the second class, because they're craycray and I had to get their attention somehow.. Today is a long day, I have two more classes! I promise there will be photos soon! By tomorrow!

Love,

L