Way, way back, during our Peace Corps training, one of our Thai training directors commented on the sad state of Thai education. “I see schools spending huge sums of money to have a beautiful sign made,” he said. “But when you go inside the school, there’s no teaching going on. I think this is what needs to change in Thailand.” We were still idealistic at that point, and didn’t know how hard it was going to be to promote “student-centered learning” in Thailand. But the comment stuck with us, and two years later in Minnesota, I’m still thinking about it.
Much of Thai society operates this way. A gleaming structure is beautiful to look at but has nothing of substance inside. A student from a school wins numerous awards, bringing honor to the school, but none of the other kids in his class can read. A shiny new airport is built at the cost of billions of dollars, but the runway is on top of a swamp and starts to sink. A ceremony is held for a new library, but there’s no books inside that kids actually want to read. Where is the thought? Where is the deliberation? Where is the meaning? Where is the real benefit?
This photo shows me sitting with three neighborhood kids outside the local elementary school in our training village. From the sign, and perhaps even from the nice plants behind it, you’d think that this school is a well-run, attractive spot, probably with some good education happening inside. In reality, class sizes were in the 40s and kids had few materials. Teachers often didn’t show up for class. And this was one of the better-run public schools that we saw in Thailand.
It’s often said about Thailand that the people there value social harmony and evenness. They don’t like having debate, disagreement, or anything that isn’t “beautiful.” (“Beautiful” was one of the words we heard most often in Thailand, right after “delicious.”) While this has its benefits, it also has some drastic consequences, because circumstances or situations that should be challenged are not. Airports are built on swamps, and teachers go shopping instead of teaching.
I’m now reading The Lexus and the Olive Tree by Thomas Friedman, a book published in 2000 about globalization. My understanding of globalization is vastly different after two years in Thailand than it was before I went, and I’ll probably have several blogs on this topic. I chose to write about the school signs today, though, because of a particular quote in the book. While discussing the Southeast Asian economic crash of the late 1990s, he writes, “[The SE Asian countries] had replicated the outward configurations of the Western financial systems, but in many cases in was replication by rote. There was something missing inside.” In other words, while Thailand and other countries had appeared to transition to a free-market economy, in actuality there was no substance behind the change, and the transition failed. The fancy sign was on display, but no teaching was going on.
Much of Thai society operates this way. A gleaming structure is beautiful to look at but has nothing of substance inside. A student from a school wins numerous awards, bringing honor to the school, but none of the other kids in his class can read. A shiny new airport is built at the cost of billions of dollars, but the runway is on top of a swamp and starts to sink. A ceremony is held for a new library, but there’s no books inside that kids actually want to read. Where is the thought? Where is the deliberation? Where is the meaning? Where is the real benefit?
This photo shows me sitting with three neighborhood kids outside the local elementary school in our training village. From the sign, and perhaps even from the nice plants behind it, you’d think that this school is a well-run, attractive spot, probably with some good education happening inside. In reality, class sizes were in the 40s and kids had few materials. Teachers often didn’t show up for class. And this was one of the better-run public schools that we saw in Thailand.
It’s often said about Thailand that the people there value social harmony and evenness. They don’t like having debate, disagreement, or anything that isn’t “beautiful.” (“Beautiful” was one of the words we heard most often in Thailand, right after “delicious.”) While this has its benefits, it also has some drastic consequences, because circumstances or situations that should be challenged are not. Airports are built on swamps, and teachers go shopping instead of teaching.
I’m now reading The Lexus and the Olive Tree by Thomas Friedman, a book published in 2000 about globalization. My understanding of globalization is vastly different after two years in Thailand than it was before I went, and I’ll probably have several blogs on this topic. I chose to write about the school signs today, though, because of a particular quote in the book. While discussing the Southeast Asian economic crash of the late 1990s, he writes, “[The SE Asian countries] had replicated the outward configurations of the Western financial systems, but in many cases in was replication by rote. There was something missing inside.” In other words, while Thailand and other countries had appeared to transition to a free-market economy, in actuality there was no substance behind the change, and the transition failed. The fancy sign was on display, but no teaching was going on.
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