Teaching English in Thailand - A reader's journey
“Teaching English in Thailand: Chaos, Crickets, and the Morning Assembly You’ll Never Miss”
When I accepted a job teaching English in Thailand, I pictured something out of a travel blog: temple visits after work, chatting with friendly students over mango smoothies, and maybe the occasional jungle hike on a weekend. Instead, I found myself in a Bangkok suburb which was not quite urban, not quite rural, but certainly hot, humid, and full of things no teacher training course ever mentioned.
Armed with laminated lesson plans and a wildly misplaced sense of preparedness, I entered the world of Thai government schools. Things unraveled quickly. But at least I got a good story (or twenty) out of it.
1. Gate Duty: Every Morning Feels Like Campaign Season
At 6:45 a.m., I’m already drenched in sweat, standing outside the school gates, pressing my palms together and nodding like I’m trying to secure votes from 1,200 very short constituents and their parents. Smiles are non-negotiable. Enthusiasm is expected. Sunblock is useless.
Gate duty wasn’t in my contract. Nor were most of the other “extra” responsibilities, like carrying sound equipment across a muddy field or being asked to sing karaoke at a retirement party for a teacher I’ve never met. But in Thailand, “extra duties as assigned” basically translates to “whatever comes up that day.”
At first, I asked questions. Later, I just showed up and hoped for the best.
2. Morning Assembly: Predictable Chaos
Assembly starts promptly every morning. There’s no “maybe,” no “weather permitting”, it’s happening whether you’re ready or not. You may have heard about the assembly held during a thunderstorm with lightning because the principal wanted a perfect start to the school year. That kind of madness. The students line up in perfectly straight rows. The national anthem plays. Then the prayers, announcements, and often a motivational speech.
Sometimes that motivational speech is delivered by you. Without warning, someone hands you a mic and says, “Teacha, talk now.” Suddenly you're in front of a thousand students, half-awake, half-dressed for the heat, giving an impromptu speech about the importance of perseverance or brushing your teeth.
It’s a lot like being Jason Bourne, but instead of dodging assassins, you’re dodging awkward silences and trying to remember how to say “try your best” slowly and clearly enough to be understood. All the while students look as excited as if they're watching paint dry.
3. In the Classroom: The Sound of Crickets
“Any questions?” I asked brightly after my first grammar lesson. Nothing. Not a whisper. Not even a shift in body language. Just the gentle whir of the fan and the distant chirping of actual crickets.
Thai students are incredibly polite, respectful, and when it comes to English, painfully shy. Asking a question in front of peers? Risky. Giving a wrong answer? Social suicide. Most would rather sit in silence than speak out loud.
I’ve had students nod “yes” while clearly not understanding a word. I’ve taught entire lessons to a group of statues, then watched the same students whisper something in English to each other outside the classroom. The language is sometimes there but it’s just hidden under layers of modesty and fear of embarrassment.
Games help (I worship the maker of Kahoot). Candy helps more. But ultimately, the biggest victories come when a student finally says, “I don’t understand,” out loud. That’s braver than copying their homework (a common practice) or guessing all the answers on a vocabulary test.
4. Lunch: One Tray to Rule Them All
At 11:30 a.m. sharp, the whole school lines up for lunch. There’s no choice, no variety, and no reason to ask what’s being served as it’s the same for everyone, every day. Rice, a main dish, and a few slices of cucumber that appear to be purely decorative.
It’s not gourmet, but it’s usually pretty decent and free. The same aunties serve it with military precision. You eat it, you accept it, you move on. Asking for vegetarian options is like asking a tree to move: possible in theory, but no one really knows how.
Still, lunch becomes the most structured part of the day. I’ve come to find it oddly comforting, like clockwork, but with fish sauce.
5. Farang Island: Two Staff Rooms, Two Worlds
Thai teachers and foreign teachers operate in parallel dimensions. We smile, nod, and exchange the occasional “sawatdee ka,” but we don’t really mix. Thai staff have their own meetings, announcements, and mysterious group LINE chats. We farangs are left to piece together what’s going on based on context clues and overheard student conversations.
Once, I found out a class was canceled because a ten-year-old told me, “No learn today, teacher. Big show coming.” They were right. I just wasn’t invited.
You get used to it. Kind of. It’s not unfriendly, it’s just separate. But it does mean you’ll often be the last to know anything important. Like when payday is. Or if it’s actually payday.
6. Sports Day: Academic Time, Disappearing in Real Time
If you think school is primarily for learning, think again. In Thailand, school is also a theater company, a marching band, a full-scale event production team. Especially around Sports Day, when education takes a backseat to rehearsals, parades, and the construction of massive, glittery floats.
English class? Cancelled. Your classroom? Occupied by cheer squads. Your students? Wearing face paint and practicing choreographed routines to 90s club hits at 8 a.m.
No one questions this. It’s just what happens. It’s chaotic, dazzling, and strangely beautiful. But don’t expect anyone to know when it ends or when you’ll get your students back.
7. The Contract: A Work of Fiction
Your contract might say “work permit within 30 days,” “salary on the 30th,” and “weekends off.” That’s cute.
The truth is: timelines are flexible. Everything depends on who’s in the office, who’s talking to immigration, and how many stamps are left in the drawer. I’ve spent hours in immigration offices being told I needed a document I’d never heard of, then told to come back next week with “same same.”
Pay sometimes arrives on time. Sometimes it arrives suspiciously late. And no one will ever tell you why. You’ll hear “maybe tomorrow” more times than a Buddhist monk hears prayers.
Eventually, you stop asking questions. You just adapt and hope to make your savings last long enough without needing a payday loan.
8. Cultural Landmines: My Life as a Walking Faux Pas
I once accidentally stood in front of the school Buddha during assembly. Another time I used my foot to close a door. And I definitely sat in the director’s chair during a meeting once, though purely by accident.
No one said anything. But the silence was thunderous.
In Thailand, cultural norms are strong but often unspoken. Foreign teachers aren’t always told the rules. We find out the hard way. Head-touching is off-limits. I once ruffled someone's hair and lived to regret it. Pointing with your feet is taboo. Raising your voice? A huge no-no.
You learn through awkward trial and error. If you're lucky, a student will quietly correct you. If you're not, you'll just be gently exiled from lunch that day.
9. Two Endings. Choose Your Adventure.
Option A: The Noble, Delirious Hero Who Stayed
Despite it all, the miscommunication, the heat, the vanishing class periods, I stayed. I got used to the rhythm. I started to appreciate the looseness of it all. I stopped panicking when the schedule changed because the schedule always changed.
One day, a student said, “Teacher, I like your class. You funny but not boring.” That was enough.
The days were weird, the pay was inconsistent, and I’m still not entirely sure if my visa was ever 100% legal. But teaching in Thailand gave me something that no office job ever could: the daily reminder that life is messy, surprising, and occasionally full of glitter and chicken fried rice.
Option B: The Midnight Run (a.k.a. Jason Bourne: Farang Edition)
Or maybe I didn't stay.
Maybe, after one too many miscommunications, one too many unpaid Saturdays, and a particularly heated staff meeting conducted entirely in Thai while I nodded and pretended to take notes, I cracked.
One night, under cover of darkness (and poor Wi-Fi), I packed my bag, booked a Grab to the airport, and vanished. Like a ghost. Like a passport-stamping Jason Bourne. No goodbye party. Just one last meal at 7-Eleven and a quiet exit past the sleeping security guard.
I left a polite note and a few unused worksheets behind.
And honestly? I don’t regret it.
Final Word (Either Way)
Teaching in Thailand isn’t for the faint of heart. But if you can laugh through the chaos, survive the assembly speeches, and master the art of looking busy during cancelled classes, you might just find something special in the middle of it all.
Or, at the very least, you’ll have some incredible stories.
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