I teach English to adults in Thailand. Nothing special, you'd say, and I agree with you --- not unless you'll know that I'm paid the same salary as any farang (Thai word for a white skinned, long nose, and fair-haired person) with my qualifications. For those of you who've never been to this country better known as the land of smiles, this is a rather unusual "privilege".
I should be prostrating to the little gods, giving offers of thanksgiving, and exclaiming gratefulness for my remarkable fate. But I fall short of everybody's expectations. Instead, everyday is a continuous struggle. A struggle between fighting for what you believe in yet knowing it will lead nowhere or accepting the status quo and taking advantage of the benefits that come with it.
I have become a walking doll. I go about my job operating on different buttons. There's a button for gaiety to keep that I'm-happy face for the students and managers, and there's an alarm button hidden in the crevices of my emotions which resents this that many call a lucky break. Somewhere deep inside my ego, a ball of repressed anger builds up everyday and paradoxically falls into a whimper every time the superego overpowers it.
What makes this even more insulting is for the past 2 years, I have been commended for a job well done. My ability has been praised not only by the students but by the managers I worked for as well. I've consistently had excellent feedback from students, the school administrators have lauded me for being a good teacher, and my salary has been raised three times.
Nonetheless, for many people, all these "accomplishments" should best be shelved for other more pressing needs. Thus, every time new students enroll in the language school, orientation programs never mention the presence of a Filipino teacher. In the teacher's manual, the list of teachers doesn't include a Filipino.
The managing director contends this is for the school's good cause. The introduction of an Asian teacher in the midst would only create "panic" and drive potential clients away. What makes that so disturbing is it's true. So every time a term starts, all new students are in for the surprise of their lives when a bouncy tiny Asian would open the door and teach the class. And as what has happened every time, they would have that is-this-an-asian-who's-teaching-us look for the first five minutes which eventually transforms into an I-think-she's-not-so-bad look at the end of the first two hours of class. I'd still detest my situation, but I'll have a big smile on my face every 30th of the month.
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