The sharp piercing squeaks of the moto’s brakes warn me to grip tighter. The small metal bar on the back of the seat is my saving grace; my wrist is starting to strain from the awkward angle as my fingers grasp tighter and tighter each time I hear the cue. The left footstand is half broken, so it’s downward angle forces my left thigh to work harder than it’s used to in order to prevent the weight of my leg from breaking this 4 inch piece of metal.
As usual in Cambodia, I feel I am in the middle of nowhere as Ratanak, my friendly moto driver, quickly maneuvers us between the rugged potholes, logging trucks, and stray animals that occasionally obstruct our journey. Actually, it’s the trucks and animals that are occasional – the potholes line this 7 mile dirt road so thoroughly that every few seconds Ratanak must grip his brake as he steers around or ploughs through the next hole. I have no idea how fast we’re headed down this village road since the moto’s speedometer is stuck at 0, and after straining my gaze over his shoulder several times in the hopes of catching a glimpse of our speed, I decide that maybe it’s best not to know. Just hold on, try to ignore the burning sun, and enjoy the scenery.
The latter is by far the easiest to do, as our commute today has taken us through some of the ancient temples of Angkor Wat. As the tour buses of Koreans (all sporting super stylish matching hats – I want one) unloaded and became swarmed with Khmer children trying to sell them bracelets, postcards, and trinkets, Ratanak pulled the throttle to pass them with just enough aggressiveness that it seemed to underline our mission – we had ground to cover, and we weren’t going to be stalled by any Teva-sandaled tourists who were distracted with their heads buried behind their temple maps. We were on our way out to Angkor Thom, a small, poor rural village a good 40 minutes past these sightseers.
Every so often, Ratanak turns his head sideways to attempt a conversation with me. Because I spoke to him before we left town using the half dozen Khmer phrases and questions I know, this man thinks I’m fluent. With the wind, engine noise, and me constantly focusing on not falling off the back of the moto, I fail to hear what he’s shouting at me. I can’t really tell if it’s in Khmer or English, so I alternate my polite responses between “oh, really?”, “yes, beautiful!”, “interesting!” and a few Khmer responses that probably make no sense at all. My Khmer needs some work.
Angkor Thom Junior High is made up of village students, students from a local orphanage, and students who live in the boarding section of the campus. Thanks to Life & Hope Association, this junior high is able to provide the students with better teachers, longer class times, and an array of life skill and supplemental education programs. Today was Katie and my first visit out to this bright, welcoming small campus where Katie will begin teaching the three month EGBOK Mission hospitality curriculum next week.
Once we pulled off the dirt road and into the school’s driveway, we were welcomed by some of the students who were eager to learn our names and ages. They were most likely overwhelmed by our whiteness and large size; we were overwhelmed by our aching bottoms and the inviting sensation of being able to stand and walk without the constant bouncing of the past hour.
During our visit, we met Katie’s students under their thatched-roof eating area. The 20 kids sat lining a long, narrow table and quietly watched Katie as she discussed the rules and class schedule. As I sat to the side at a different table, I had a perfect view of these new EGBOK Mission scholars. I couldn’t help but to remember my first few classes teaching English last year and how quiet my students were - rarely raising their hands, seldom daring to translate in Khmer for their classmates, and all the while making me nervous. What am I doing wrong? Is this too challenging? Are they just bored? Do they really want to be here? And this uncertainty lasted for approximately 1.5 classes. After that, the frightened students became more comfortable with my eccentric teaching style (compared to what they were used to) and class participation was rarely an issue (when a vocab word is ‘gargle’, there’s really only one way to make sure every student knows what it means).
So as I looked at each of these junior high schoolers listening to Katie, I saw their potential and have no doubt they will do well in this program. They already have the motivation (these students were selected based on their desire and English skills) and in no time I know they’ll be talking their heads off and asking questions before, during, and after each class. When Katie mentions the class field trip to Phnom Penh in June, one of the girls directly across from me literally drops her jaw as her eyebrows instantly rise and both hands meet her cheeks. She might be too shy to say it now, but I don’t need to know Khmer fluently to be absolutely positive - she is pumped.
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