Part One: Chapter One.1
Spasms o’ Spite
“Class… Sa-dan Up!” a 13 year old boy firmly ordered his peers. The white walled-wide windowed, naturally lit second-story classroom full of rowdy pre-teen energy harnessed into permeable pop passions for emulated J-rock mended K-pop motorcycle model mania became silent. As if their peer leader, a clean-cut caramel skinned lad adorned in a neatly ironed scout’s uniform was the long-sought savior of Thailand, suddenly chaos became order.
“Good Maw-ning Tee-Cha… How awe you today?’ 34 co-ed Matayom Two students of a secondary public school on the outskirts of Bangkok uniformly stood up and called out in perfect monotone unison. As is the norm in mandatory subjects such as English Conversation featuring a native speaking facilitator, Thai students have been programmed to greet their teacher once in the beginning, and again to conclude the fifty minute period.
***
On this particular March morning in the ninth year of the Common Era’s second millennium, Christopher Stevens spontaneously strayed from the usual expected response. “Well, lets see students, it’s the first period of Monday morning’s major migraine monkey manifestation. Minus mailman Manny’s missus not actually mounting my massive missile meeting morning moment’s meal, the possibility of y’all toots and brutes bargaining any real sense from this random combustion of a greeting is as likely as ants failing to impede last night’s left-out pizza.” swiftly and flawlessly spurted out in a single breath, the 25 year old foreign language instructor didn’t intend for-nor expect his subjects to comprehend; an ice breaking random tongue twister always seemed like a good idea at to kick things off.
Cinnamon and chocolate fingers itched orderly-groomed black craniums, jaws dropping as simultaneous spasms of ‘huh?’ resonated about the six row learning confine. Confused, albeit curious brown eyes gazed around at each other, ending synchronized stare at their grinning leader seated at the window-view corner desk of the front row. Taking a moment to process what fragments he could retain, Dek Chai Pawit, AKA student number one of room number three—the science specializing kids—relayed his own mangled response ‘Meu keun, farang kee mao keeh lung fan bye gin Peee-Zah sai mote’
Instantly, order became chaos again, the entire class bursting out in laughter as if they had understood their Amerisian teacher’s response all the while. Even Chris had to chuckle at the silly degree of misinterpretation, communication mutation exchange.
In contrast to the other contracted-course, teaching term engagements he had scoped and scaled over the past several years amid rural Thai government schools, Chris received explicit orders from his current urban private school’s English Department Director not to speak Thai with students, reasoning that coerced communication be the key to controlling an environment of endorsed English expression, if not to meet the school administration’s primary objective of increasing it’s English national test scores to be on par with strong math and science averages which the school boasts for admissions campaigning.
This was a gig that Chris found himself constantly reminding himself not to take for granted when routine resonates. He was aware that the moment he became arrogant and ungrateful, a handful of his Thai counterparts–on half the salary he was getting despite having been established as certified teachers since Chris was still swinging on monkey bars—wouldn’t hesitate to sway his end-of-term teacher evaluation, which according to teacher lounge dialogue, was the official grounds of how the previous teacher, Pamela, a 37 year old single woman from Canada had officially been canned.
Word is that PMS Pam, as she was referred to by the foreign staff, had gained an unfavorable reputation at the school from the beginning of her six months—the first term of the Thai school year lasting from May till October. Often complaining, frowning and yelling at students in and out of the classroom, quarreling with faculty about everything from the policy forbidding female teachers to wear pants to the lack of a proper vegetarian menu and chef, her teaching approach of strictly sticking to text book curriculum with guaranteed daily quizzes proved to be unpopular; a lonely introvert who’d spend her breaks in the corner glued to some romance novel failed to gain any allies.
By Craig, June 3, 2009 @ 6:55 am
I enjoyed it- it’s funny and well written, a solid introduction to your main character, and left me with a strong impetus to keep reading
By blovel troll, July 15, 2009 @ 1:02 pm
PMS Pam!! hahaha, i can jusy picture her…great stuff
By khawar, July 15, 2009 @ 1:06 pm
It is very well written, a good use of vocabulary, making it sophisticatedly interesting but also has the charm of humour aswell; in reference to the above comment I also felt the urge to keep reading which is a sign of a good novel.
By Rhyta B., July 15, 2009 @ 2:23 pm
wow how come you bacame a good writer huh?
By admin, July 15, 2009 @ 3:07 pm
thanks for all the comments
hope to read more to keep momentum and motivation going for this work
@ rhyta–I’ve yet to realize how good a writer I shall become
By Klaus Kent, July 15, 2009 @ 9:32 pm
Excellent descriptive ability. The meter and vocabulary are blended seamlessly. The book literally jumps from the pages.