Teaching In Thailand- The Dark Side

When my husband and I were preparing for our big move to Thailand, we had many conversations about how our life was going to be different. Our hopes, dreams, and adventures we wanted to go on. Oh, the dreams and clouds were real and many dear readers! A little background- my amazing husband and partner in sarcasm is in the IT field, so he can work remotely. Me on the other hand took the public service road of education. My bachelors and masters are in education, hold multiple certifications, have received awards for my abilities, and have led teams and new teachers. 

Now, I thought I knew what I was getting into. See, I had taught overseas previously, in South Korea and China. I was experienced with being an expat and working in a new culture, assuming I had an automatic leg-up on my entry into a new school in Thailand. I also spent time doing research- reading about other peoples experiences and thoughts on life here. Everything I saw was positive!

Little did I know that all of the happy-go-lucky, life-in-Thailand-is-so-amazing, you're-going-to-LOVE-teaching-here blogs and info I had been seeing were misleading. Here's why from a trained professionals point of view...

*disclaimer- I will not be stating the name of my school as I am still currently employed here*

- In my school, I have four classes a day, with three planning periods. This is nice, and I love all the free time. However, unless I am teaching one of my classes, my only role in the classroom is to stand at the back and work as a teacher assistant. Keep kids quiet, help them answer worksheets during appointed work time, and occasionally provide examples of pronunciation on English words. I go many classes just standing around in the back of the room, sometimes shushing kids, but otherwise doing and saying nothing at all. If you are an experienced teacher, doing virtually nothing all day can feel quiet shocking to the brain and may be something you resent or feel irritated by. It's also very un-stimulating and monotonous for a person who enjoys challenges, having work, or being kept busy.

- Most classrooms don't use their A/C, or have A/C. Even for the most outdoorsy person, teaching in a room with 42 to 44 warm bodies during 95+ degree with, with humidity, gets to anyone. 

- Jumping off of the last point, you have 42 to 44 students in a room. The average in America is around 25 kids from my 7 years experience in country. While having a lot of students is not a guarantee that things will be difficult in a classroom, or that the education quality will be low, there is little question in most teachers minds that there is a direct correlation between class size and student success. Don't believe me? "The most influential and credible study of CSR (class size reduction) is the Student Teacher Achievement Ratio, or STAR, study which was conducted in Tennessee during the late 1980s.  In this study, students and teachers were randomly assigned to a small class, with an average of 15 students, or a regular class, with an average of 22 students.  This large reduction in class size... was found to increase student achievement by an amount equivalent to about 3 additional months of schooling four years later." Also, "...Large classes are associated with challenges in delivering high-quality and equitable learning opportunities (Bligh, 2002). For example, students in large classes do not have the same opportunities to interact with the teacher compared to students in small classes (Maringe & Sing, 2014)." Now you try taking 44 unruly 13 year old's, half or more who don't speak English, and try lecturing them for 50 minutes. Yup.

- The grading system set-up breaks down to 10 points of grading for 6 weeks of classwork, with most of those ten points coming from one or two activities. That means that out of 12 lessons, only work that students complete in 1-3 of them will be worth a score. Translated into normal class means that it results in students who aren't required to complete anything worth a grade and can get away with sleeping, texting, or not paying attention for the other 11 to 9 classes, as no negative consequences will befall them otherwise.

- Branching off this point, student behavior is atrocious. If you walk down the halls at my school, regardless if it is past a Thai teachers class or foreign teacher, you will see many students who have their heads down, are on their phones, chatting/drawing, or simply not paying attention. This is considered normal and acceptable, with lack of attention given to speakers commonplace even among adults. This same behavior is rampant among the hundreds of Thai teachers at all staff meetings after school once a month. By the end of one staff meeting I attended, by 6:30pm, the entire auditorium was buzzing with conversation, and not quietly mind you! This was even though an admin for the school was still presenting and the meeting was not over! Staying quiet, paying attention, even taking notes, in a foreign teachers class are unusual and abnormal things here.

- No student left behind. Literally, we are not allowed to fail anyone. Even if that student has not done any work, handed in zero assignments, or failed multiple tests through their own lack of studying. We allow for them to retake it, or in some cases as I experienced once, the teacher will have to sit with them and "help" them take the test to guarantee they pass. While I support the idea of reattempting work to correct mistakes (this was a core philosophy of my previous school), the core of this approach rests on students reviewing the mistakes they made, examining the individualized critiques and comments from their teacher, and making corrections to improve upon their score. That is not what's happening in this situation. Students simply complete assignments a second time, and often times are permitted to complete a simplified, easier, or watered down version. They aren't truly tested on what they have learned from their mistakes, or how to do better. 

With all this being said, there are many who enjoy what they do here at my school. There is a lot of free time to relax, the work load is easy and split among the members of your team so that you aren't having to create everything by yourself, and you often receive at least some help from your Thai co-teachers. There are many holidays, so you get at least a day or so off every month, and the hours are nice (7:45-4pm). Additionally, rarely do teachers stay late, and additional tasks that fall after school or on holiday breaks are optional but not required. For a trained professional, I can finally breath compared to my previous work in the States, and have been able to just slow down again. I have time to grade, lesson plan, or prepare worksheets without taking work home, plus extra time like right now when I'm writing this blog! Everyone always talks about how cute the kids are, suddenly finding meaning in their lives with teaching, how it's such a great way to travel, blah-blah. Well- sorta yes sorta no. It's not always all its cracked up to be, and if you've got prior experience to compare to, this might not be the haven you're looking for. Come in with eyes wide open and an understanding that not all things are perfect, and you might have an easier time adjusting than I have.

Always,

Rita

Remember to Remember

Take a moment and try something with me here- just stop where you are. If you're standing, take a seat, even if on the floor. Relax your shoulders, arms, legs. Become aware of your jaw and any tension you are holding there, let your body come to rest, just for a few seconds. Allow the your stress and anxiety from the day to dissipate out of your body and leave you.

It's amazing how much worry we carry in our body, and the way that it manifests itself into numerous discomforts, pains, and burdens. Additionally, it astounds me how much we learn to carry with us, the manner in which we so easily adjust to that burden and learn to shoulder it on a regular basis. Here I am sitting just shy into my third week in Thailand, and I find the fact that I have free time disturbing. Should that be the case? Hell no! But I do. The reason is simple, I grew accustomed to it while living in the United States. By the time that I left my role at my last school, not only was I teaching 7th grade social studies, I was also the head of the 7th grade team, the head of the mentoring program for new teachers, a mentor to two new teachers, and a member of the school improvement team. My regular days had me arriving at work easily 30 minutes early, although usually 45 minutes honestly. With the plethora of responsibilities that I was bestowed (not all willingly...), my work days were pushed back to ending normally 30-45 minutes late (although there were days where I did make it out on time, this was rare). The first three months of the most recent school year saw me leaving the school one hour to an hour and a half after our work day ended almost every day. Let's do the math- that's anywhere from 45-60 hours in a work week. And I was only compensated for the mentoring role, nothing else. 

Is that a crazy large amount? Realistically, not really compared to others I know (My husband once worked around 90hrs/week for a job). At the same time, when did it become normalized to expect people to sacrifice their lives to their job? To give up so much to a job that only cares about how much the employee is willing to do for free, and only compensates their employees if its necessary or they feel pressured. My former employer specifically tried to keep me by negotiating pay benefits to keep me from leaving on the requisite that I take on additional responsibilities. Do you know, the reason that I only had to work the extra 1-1.5 hours every day that I did with the number of roles I was carrying was due to my extreme ability to organize, years of previous work accumulated that allowed me to simply modify instead of have to create all my lessons, tests, quizzes, and activities, and amazing team that had the best damn collaborative dynamic I've seen in my adult professional career. To take on more work would be insanity for me. In the beginning, those first three months saw me crying from stress basically every week, and breaking down from the workload thinking I wouldn't be able to do it, fearing that I might need to leave my job from the anxiety and pressure I felt. And keep in mind, previously I have worked a full time job while also studying for my masters part time, and leading a volunteer program at an orphanage in the past. I didn't feel even 1/3 of the stress and anxiety I describe during that time. One job shouldn't have done that to me. 

Which led to me here, sitting at my desk in Chiang Mai, Thailand, breathing in the rain air. Reminding myself and all of you that it's okay to slow down in life. Never in the United States, during my seven years of working as a professional educator would I ever have had time to sit down and blog, study, learn about eco travel, or essentially anything that wasn't work. While I haven't fully adapted to the amount of free time I have yet, I am learning to remember- remember what it was like in Seoul, when I could sit and enjoy a book between classes, making travel plans, and write emails. Remember what it was like in Qinhuangdao when I would go for a run between classes, finish my class and go back to my apartment without staying late, and explored my passion for cooking. Life doesn't have to always be 100 miles an hour, and I knew this once upon a time ago. It took moving to the other side of the world to relearn this, but I will continue relearning until it sinks in, taking each day as it comes, and grating myself grace.

Welcome Back

Not welcome home, just back.  Home is relative, and as an expat, my heart will forever have a home in multiple places of the world.  So welcome back me, to the good ol' U.S.A.
It's been a little over two months since we last talked.  Gosh, where do I start?  Where did I end?  Last you knew, I was preparing to leave my university in QHD, China, and I was ready to go.  Not eager, just ready.  My last 24 hours in China were... magical, amazing, uplifting, beautiful, rejuvenating, and heart-filling.  While I had started writing this to share about my life now, I can't move to the now without go backwards to the then and sharing about my last few days in China first.
My final class at Dongda was a 2pm Friday class (by far my favorite, but don't tell any of my kids).  The students in that class were funny, polite, smart, sarcastic, and beyond kind.  It seemed unnatural to feel anything other than love for these kids especially.  I had just finished giving them my "goodbye, thank you for being such amazing students and showing me what China is really about, I can't explain how much I'll miss you, I promise I'll be back" speech, when the bell rang for class to end at 3:50.
To my surprise, no one moved.  Not a single one.  I didn't know what to do, and my heart swelled.  I called on the class monitor, one amazing kid in particular if you ask me, and teased him that he had promised to sing for me way long ago.  (He had won 2nd place at Dongda's singing competition)  He confirmed this, and then proceeded to sing for me and the kids.  I recorded it, I never wanted to forget that moment.  What happened next will last with me until I am made beautiful by the paintbrush of time though.
One by one, every single student, in a class of 39 students, came up to me.  Each said a personal goodbye and hugged me.  Some said more than others, some hugged harder or longer, but I was beyond words.  I kept myself together, I could tell they needed me to be strong more than I needed them, but wow....
The English language lacks words which encompass how that moment made me feel.  To verbalize the love which the students showed to me in those minutes is not possible, and to stay that I cannot wait to see them again one day is a complete understatement. 
Tuesday night was my last evening in QHD and I invited kids to come hang out.  Over 30 kids came in total, and I couldn't believe how much love these kids continued to give and show.  Then Wednesday morning there were about 10 different kids waiting for me in the morning as Suzanna and I dragged our life's possessions with us across China to fly back to America.  So many last minute hugs, so many whispers of "Don't forget me Rita, come back one day", so many last minute gifts pushed into my hands in the place of the words their English vocabulary lacked still. 
To be honest, I am not a very expressive emotional person honestly.  I feel it all on the inside, but struggle to say it with words, or show it with tears the way others might sometimes.  Driving away from that school was one of the top five most difficult feelings I have experienced, right up there with the first time I left America, and the day I left Korea.  What did make me cry was Blue Sky.
Let me explain.  Blue Sky is this amazing, kind, full of love, sassy, smart, and captivating boy at my school who spoke better English than some of my English major students.  He and I became friends late in the game, but once we bonded, BAM!, that was it!  Suzanna, Blue Sky, and I quickly became a little family, spent time together, shared personal stories and meals, went on adventures, took many long walks around campus, and showed him what love from an American family means.  In essence, he is my second little brother, and I am his American older sister.  Planning for the day Suzanna and I were to leave, without telling either of us, he went to the bus station and bought a bus ticket to go with us all the way to Beijing.  That's a four hour trip folks- FOUR hours.  Just so he could take us all the way to the airport and walk with us as far in as he could.  I didn't know until Tuesday night, and sat next to him the entire way to the airport.  We talked some, listened to music that had become "our" songs during others, and just spent time next to each other in that comfortable companionship that comes to exist between two people who are good friends. 
When that moment to part ways came, it finally hit me... I was leaving.  Saying goodbye is hard for everyone I think, and I am definitely in this group.  Goodbye's are evil horrible events that I want to throw popcorn at and say "Booooo!" to.
Blue Sky stood there, stoic like always, and when I promised him I would return and told him that I love him, he gave his usual "Yeah, I know" answer.  His eyes showed it though, and I knew him well enough to know that he would allow himself to feel it later.  Walking away from him on the other side of the gate, turning back and seeing him standing there, made my heart feel like it was being squeezed by the jolly green giant.  That escalator ride down to the airport train, and the train ride over, were the quietest moments between Suzanna and I since we had become real friends, and filled with silent tears by both of us.  The day I go back cannot come soon enough.

When I had started writing this blog, I was intending for it to be all about my new job, the kids I'm with now, and my life here in Durham, NC.  Yet somehow the past called to me begging to be shared.  Sometimes, I guess memories want what they want.  I promise to update soon with what my new life here is like.  Until then, I hope you enjoyed this walk into my past with me, and I'll talk to you all soon.
Love,
Always,
Rita

Book Ends

Teachers log.  Day 1,320
Currently I am sitting in my apartment in QHD with the realization that in less than two weeks, I will be stepping on to a plane and returning to America for good.
How did this happen?
It feels as though a tide has swept into my life, and I'm not sure where or when, but somehow my world has been shifted (not for the first time). Where once I found myself sitting in my apartment hiding from China, I now sit staring out the window in wistful sadness. Where at one time I used to find myself angry, unhappy, and struggling against what I saw as shortcomings on China's end, now I rejoice in the areas I never even knew held beauty.  I'm not sure where or when, but somehow things changed...and it's all due to my kids.  My kids saved me.
There won't be much to this blog post, I'm not sure what to say or how to say it.  Honestly, I struggle with finding words to talk to my kids as it is, telling them the hard truth that I am leaving in two weeks, and fighting to hold the pieces of my broken heart as they look at me with sadness on their face and even a few with tears in their eyes.  These kids, they mean so much to me.  I've taught about half of my eight classes for a year now, becoming very close to them.  The other four have quickly formed a solid place in my heart that can never be taken away.  With all of them, we laugh, wave hi to each other on the street, and make jokes.  With a few classes, I've become particularly close, baking them cookies or being let in on class secrets and relationship updates.  This is why I came here, and why it is so hard to leave.
Not to mention two kids especially who have become my best friends.  One kid has become my little brother, we have shared laughter, tears, and many many evenings talking about everything.  He knows my secrets, and I know his.  I trust him, and love him like my own family.  The other was the first person to reach out to me here, wanting to be my friend simply to be friends, not because he wanted to know a foreigner.  In China, that means a lot.  We hang out like it's no big deal, (which, if you know how awkward hanging out with shy students can be, IS a big deal), talk for hours on end, share movies, food, and stories.  He is one of my closest friends here, and I have become one of his.
Then there's S. Her and I weren't that close last semester (what between me adjusting to China, and her adjusting to teaching, neither of us were capable of it yet), yet somewhere between traveling together during winter vacation, and the countless late night talks, she has become one of my best friends. Neither of us are really sure when it happened, and it's the fastest I have ever become so close to someone, but there you have it.  One of the surprisingly beautiful side-effects of living overseas.  Her and I are very different, she's probably the most opposite of me of any of my friends, yet I trust her and she me.
How do I say goodbye to them?  How do I walk away from students I care about and have watched grow over a full year, walk away from friends I love, and away from another family I have formed while living in different country.  These people have become my world, and June 24th marks the day I must say goodbye until I can come back to QHD again. Though I know the time between now and when I come back will be long, in my eyes, it will be short.  What is a year or two to an expat who has lived four years over seas?  Nothing, we know that days fly quickly and even time cannot stand between two friends.
Sorry if this is a bit of a sad blog post.  I wanted to write one last time at least before leaving my expat life.  It seemed an appropriate end, and I wanted to share.  Telling others of the sadness in my heart is hard, and I know some would say I'm either being sentimental or over-reacting...but this is who I am, this is HOW I am.  I feel everything, love many, struggle with change, and hate saying goodbye.  I love you guys.
Always
The Expat Teacher,
Rita

My Truth

I have a confession to make.  Are you ready for it?  I'm pretty sure it will surprise you.
...
I'm tired.  Tired of traveling.  Tired of living in other countries.

Bet that was not what you thought you'd hear was it?
Don't get me wrong, I love to travel in general, visit other countries, meet new people, try unique food, and visit famous sights.

Here's the thing though.  I've been on the road for about six weeks now.  After being in China where people are consistently and regularly rude (by my definition), and then around young people in Hong Kong who make large assumptions about massive countries, or have never learned the art form of holding a conversation, it leaves one feeling world weary.

The week I have remaining ahead of me before my time in the states cannot go fast enough to be honest.  I'm itching to be in a space that is safe, comfortable, welcoming, and quiet.  One where I am not an outsider for simply being a white female with blue eyes.  A place where I don't have to struggle to buy fruit or vegetables, and I'm accepted for being American, instead of judged for it.  A city where I know how to get from A to B, won't have fight and struggle with a bus jammed packed with people, and watch anxiously to make sure I don't miss my stop, for fear of getting lost in a city I don't know.  A state that has ready access to food I know and love, where I am not charged an arm and a leg in order to buy simple things like butter, and buying poor quality cheese isn't a luxury.  A nation where no one yells "hello" in my face, people do not spit on the ground, push me where ever I go, stare openly as I walk past, make assumptions about me because of my nationality, and welcome me as an equal instead of continuously regarding me as an outsider.*
I am tired of fighting.
I am tired of the struggle to live a regular life.
I am tired of traveling.
Although I am only 27, I feel old.
A young woman I meet last night scoffed at me when I said that I am thinking of returning to the States.  You don't understand, you don't see.  The fights and hardships I have been through in the past year or two were some of the most challenging I have ever experienced, and despite the fact that I made it through them, it does not mean that I am left as young, happy, naive, and energetic as I once was, or as you are now.  While my recent life has not been terrible, it has not been super easy either.
And all I want is peace.
...
Take me home.  Provide me with quiet.  Give me family and friends that love me, protect me, treat me with respect, and not only listen to what I say, but aren't offended when I speak my mind.
During the past 3 and half years abroad, I have come to understand the key to happiness for me will never stay the same.  For a long time in Korea, I thought I had discovered the key-travel.  When I moved to China, I began to miss my friends and family from Seoul desperately.  Slowly, the world I had come to accept shifted, until I began to see that what made me happy was no longer travel, but friends.
With this shift, I have started to understand that what will make me happy will probably never stay the same for my entire life.  Happiness is an ever shifting ground below us, one constantly moving and rearranging itself in order to adjust to who we are at that time in our lives, and the things that we need, whether we can see it for ourselves or not.
For me, it is the patiently anxious arms of my Mom and Dad waiting for me on the other side of the gates in Orlando, Florida next Tuesday.

Love,
Me

*Disclaimer- Please understand, that my entire 3 1/2 years overseas have NOT all been like this.  I stand by my opinion that Korea is an amazing country, and I love it as much, if not more than, my own honestly.  I was always an outsider though.
China, on the other hand, presents a myriad of problems that are hard for me to grapple with.  Students are amazing, and often the saving grace in a country full of difficulties.  Almost all of the issues I listed above are in reference to that country.  It is not all bad, but it is a hard nation to swallow, and often defined by a love/hate relationship for me.

A Simple Letter

Dear Cambodia,
I can't believe my time is coming to an end.  Once I leave, I don't know how long it will be before I am able to come back.  What am I going to do with you so far away again?  You make my heart sing with happiness, the stress that far too often weighs upon my shoulders seemingly effortlessly disappear, and my usually relentless brain quiet down.  You rejuvenate my soul, inspire the artist in me, and never ask for anything in return beyond the minimum help others can give to get back on your two feet.
Throughout my trip, I saw many of the same sights I did last time, and yet, with fresh eyes, they were new all over again too.  Details appeared that I had missed before, food I had never tried were experienced for the first time, and of the things I wish I had done before, I finally did.
How do you say goodbye to a country you have come to love so much, you convince everyone you can to visit?  How do you board a plane to leave a place you wish you could wrap up and carry away with you, just to keep it near?  How do you let go of a place that makes you happy, truly and unequivocally, happy?
I don't have the answer to these questions, and I know nobody in your beautifully war town lands does either.  Maybe to you, I am simply another white tourist, another American- but to me, you are the memories that buoy my sad heart when trapped in a city for too long.   You are the food I love, the rare country of people who always have a smile ready 24/7, the perfect weather, amazing ancient architecture, and the only nation I have not lived in yet love as my own two (Korea and America).  The day I can come back will not be soon enough, and next time, I will explore even more.  This I promise you.
Always,
Rita

One love gained is another lost

It has been four days since I set foot in Cambodia again.  Third visit to this country, and my return has been a bag of mixed feelings I'm not 100% sure I could ever explain to someone else.  My coworkers decided that they wanted to travel with me, which I was hesitant but okay about.  History has not been on my side when it comes to me traveling with others, and though I have always longed for it, I usually end up getting into arguments, or just bored, with the person I travel with.  Thus far, I have not argued, but tonight I began to feel the strain of being with other people.
They were deciding if they wanted ice cream, then what type they wanted. No big deal, and they took a reasonable amount of time to decide really- about 2-3 minutes.  Yet I could feel my irritation level rising, my frustration at having to wait as they decided over every little option growing, and my need for some alone time pressing in.  I parted ways shortly after, going to the gelato store on my own for a few minutes of quiet thinking time.  It's been a long day, and I needed space.
I love Cambodia, desperately, and wish more than most know that I could live here for a long time and help this country continue to climb back on it's feet after decades worth of destruction and damage.  My desire to return used to be so strong, that I would be walking in Seoul and have vivid flashbacks to my first trip- something would set off a memory that sent me sky rocketing back, leaving me seeing not a city-scape before me, but a country side with a wood fire burning, little kids playing, a field of dull golden yellow grass and random palm trees swaying in the breeze.  I had fallen in love.
Yet now that I am back, I have found it changed.
There are more tourists- lots more.  Especially Chinese, Korean, and Japanese.  It is the Chinese that I dislike the most, cluttering up the pathways with their large groups, disturbing the peace with their spitting, and virtually threatening the existence of the ancient temples here by touching them.  The once quiet temples are busier, the formerly peaceful floating villages now littered with a constant stream of boats showing tourists around, and the quaint little restaurants by the river replaced by large and standardized restaurants from America and Korea.
While I am happy that Cambodia is growing and being paid attention to by people who seek to improve the living conditions of the local people through worthwhile programs- I miss the Cambodia I feel in love with.  The quiet one, hidden away, secret, that no one wanted to visit, or even knew about.  Then again, that was why I went in the first place. When everyone I knew was flying away to Thailand for winter break my first year in Korea, I purposefully choose Cambodia /BECAUSE/ no one was going there.  It's discovery was bound to happen eventually, and truthfully it was on that road already when I came.  I guess I just didn't realize how much things could change in three years, and it's been hard for me to adjust.
During my slow walk back to my hostel, I allowed myself to take in the city of Siem Reap. The neon lights on the pedestrian bridge reflect in the small river below, and tuk tuk drivers honk lightly as they drive around the round-about.  Looking at the road in a state of slight disrepair, the dog limping by with a severely injured paw almost making me cry, and the child playing nearby who calls out "goodbye" to me, I realize that I still love Cambodia, and I don't love China.
It didn't hit me like a brick wall, or rock my world, as you might think.
The realization came to me quietly, the way a sunflower unfolds quietly when the sun first touches it with it's early morning rays, the truth hidden like a grain of sand within.  The fact is, the way I feel had been there all along, and I didn't know it till now.  Or maybe I couldn't admit it till now.
Cambodia is broken.  It is corrupt, uses people, hurts each other, and wears the scars and injuries of it's past plainly for any tourist who isn't too too drunk or oblivious to see it.  If you know where to look, no number of fancy stores/restaurants hides the reality here.
Yet they try.  In any way they know how, they try.  Cambodians are doing everything they can to make the world they have available to them better, or to survive in it at least.  Maybe the people don't have much, and the government doesn't work like it's supposed to, and they are poor- but every year the people work a little more towards what they hope will be a better Cambodia.  You can see it in their eyes.  You can see it in their smiles- the ones that appear on their face, almost breaking it wide open with joy, love, and kindness, making you want to smile back, and spreading out rays of hope to those who look at them.
China, I feel, does not try.  The people know that their government is broken, yet claim every day that they can do nothing to fix it.  Students complain about the bribery, back door dealings, and the completely unbalanced education system that places all it's emphasis on the college entrance exam and then finals in college.  Yet they will turn around and engage in these same activities, feeding the system should they need to as well.  So many students sit back and simple shrug their shoulders, feigning helplessness.  The former beauty, glory, and history of China is diminishing each year, as the country paves its way forward by demolishing everything in sight in order to /LOOK/ like they are progressing.  Always, the most important thing, is saving face, no matter the cost.
It is this that I cannot stand.
It is this understanding that has helped me to realize, I love Cambodia, and do not love China.
With a heavy heart, reflective mind, and hopeful heart that tomorrow will be better,
Rita