Thursday, February 24, 2011

Another Monday Morning

Another Monday morning had arrived, as it always does in every country; even in Thailand.  This particular Monday was a wee bit different than the past. Yes, I still had to be up at 6 a.m. and biking through CRAZY traffic by 7:40 to be at the temple school, ready to teach at 8:30. Teaching second graders English is never an easy task. However, it seems more daunting when one cannot even communicate with the children in the first place. Somehow, all of these things have become the norm. The difference, this morning, took place in the fact that I was sick with a head cold, my voice was barely audible, and my head ache felt as though it was caused by cymbals clanging at a great force into either side of my skull. Just another Monday, right?
                I arrived to school early- very early. I decided to take a few of my many extra minutes to stop and chat with the teacher in the Special Needs class. She, of course, was greatly concerned over my head cold and asked if I should go to the Hospital. This is all very normal in Thai culture. I told her that I was fine, it was only a head cold and I could just sleep it off. No need to go to the hospital. She asked if I would be coming to her class today, and I told her, yes, I would. It was Monday and that’s all part of the routine.
                After the second grade class on Monday, I go to the Special Needs class to help out and play with the children for about two hours. The classroom in which this class resides is quite literally a cage. It is outside, apart from all the other classes. It has a tin roof and something resembling chicken caging wire, only a sturdier, for walls. The door is a metal gate complete with padlock. All the Special Needs children are here; no matter their age, ability level, or by what the name of their specialty happens to be. These children are considered unimportant and shameful in Thai culture. It is assumed someone did something to deserve this child.  Culturally, this is where they “should be”.
                As I left the second grade class which was quite out of hand, and thought of the cage and chaos awaiting me, I contemplated just skipping out. I had already talked to the teacher. She knew I wasn’t feeling very well. I could just tell her I was still feeling bad and needed to go rest. She would understand. I decided that maybe I would just go for one hour and then leave. One hour seemed possibly doable.
                I entered the cage-like classroom, only to be greeted with the sight of a fifteen year-old boy completely bottomless. He was missing not only his pants, but also his underwear as well. Apparently, he had just wet his pants and taking off his britches was the best way to inform the teachers he needed changed. A few of the teachers got right to changing him and all the teachers were horrified that I the foreign teacher had seen all this transpire. I decided that no more attention needed drawn to this commotion, and attempted to distract the other children.
                Thankfully, I had grown up in a home where mentally disabled people were present. My mom worked by caring for people in our home. I had been around special needs my entire life and I have been shown a supernatural love for all people, no matter who they are, by my moms example. Because of this, a fifteen year-old, half-naked boy was of no surprise, given the circumstances.
                I talked with a Down syndrome boy and taught a very bright little girl some English. Before I knew it, it was time for lunch. The teacher asked if I would like to eat lunch with the class and I agreed (I was profoundly amazed that two hours were passing by so fast). I have no idea what we ate, as I was never one to enjoy school lunches and I find Thai school lunches inedible some days. After the meal, I told them it was time for me to go home and I said my goodbyes. The teacher came over to say “thank you” and then, she said, “I want to put a blessing on you. That you be blessed all your days because you come here.” My thought was, “Someone with such a bad attitude as I did when I got here, should not ever be blessed.”  Instead, I said thank you and took the opportunity to ask her if she wanted me to pray for her in anyway. She said yes, for her family. She knew I was a Christian and still was just fine with me offering up prayers for her and her family to a foreign God. However, she told me her son is a faithful mediator and he will be praying for me as well.
                Then something I found to be highly unexpected happened. She took my hand, looked me in the eye, and said,
“I love you like my daughter. I see you here and you are so far away from your family and I see that they must miss you very much. You are young and so far away from your mother and your father. I think they miss you. You are alone and without your family. I love you like my daughter and I think of you as a part of my family. I tell them about you and you are a part of our family here.”She darted off and wrote down something on a little green piece of paper. She brought it over to me and told me,              “If you are ever in trouble, day or night, you can call me. 24 hours a day you can call and I will come and get you. No problem. You can just call and I will come and take care of you. Do not think, just call if you need me. I love you like my daughter.”
             
I was so taken aback by the honest and open love given me. My experience was that Thai people are generally ready and willing to help out, but to opening say “I love you” is a different story.  The only emotion really acceptable to show is joy. Yet, here in front of me, was an elderly Thai lady, welcoming me into her family. Needless to say, I was immeasurably blessed.
              
As I rode my bike home, I cried. I realized that I was so close to missing out on this blessing. I have no explanation of why I even felt a desire to be involved with this class, or why I ever agreed. However, I did and I found that God has plans; plans bigger than me or mine. Here, all I have is to be.

3 comments:

  1. That my dear is simply wonderful. What a lovely lady she sounds like! Miss you girly.

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  2. I am so moved by this story. This has to be such a rich blessing to your parents as well.

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  3. sounds like some of the stories Jackie told us last year!!!! keep it up

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