Twelve years ago, I arrived in Thailand with a teaching certificate, a job, and no clear idea of what I was walking into. What followed was the most formative experience of my personal and professional life. This piece is not just a reflection on teaching in Thailand, but a story about building, failing, leading, and learning.

Two Types of Thai Schools

Before we get into it, you should know there are two main types of brick and mortar Thai schools: government schools and private schools. Government schools range from under-resourced to elite depending on their esteem, placement, and history. Private schools are almost always bilingual schools (English Programs) and are generally smaller than their government counterparts. Your experience will vary greatly depending on the school you’re at, but I know from years of conversations that, regardless, you’ll find similar things wherever you go. This post is entirely based on my personal experience at one private school in a mid-sized southern Thai city, off the beaten backpacker track in an undiscovered magical province.

A Crash Landing in 2013

I came to Thailand on a whim in 2013, piggybacking on a friend I had studied my PGCE with the year before. I applied from South Africa, and three weeks later I was on my way to Bangkok with no expectations and a backpack full of nerves and excitement. I arrived late in the term with almost no time to prepare. I was handed a stack of books, a link to a Dropbox folder, and a lot of confidence that my PGCE would immediately make me a successful teacher. For many reasons, this was not the case. The English Program at the school was new, and the structures were only just starting to become solidified. The curriculum was a dense document you were vaguely aware of, but with no real guidance linking it to the subjects you were assigned.

Starting From Scratch

This is no criticism of my first boss. In fact, now I have a deeper appreciation for how he managed to get anything started at all. I’ve lost count of the projects and ideas of my own that have failed before they even started, because the challenges of getting anything going in this environment are immense. He did it though. For three or four years, he single-handedly got the English Program started, and the fact that we had books, resources, and teachers was an incredible achievement on its own. Ultimately though, there was a long way to go before we were creating an environment that gave new teachers a real chance at success.

Low Pay, High Turnover

Teachers at Thai schools aren’t paid enough. This is true for foreign teachers, and even more so for Thai teachers. My first salary was 30,000 THB before tax and social security, which meant I was walking away with something like 28,500 THB. Salaries have increased slightly over time, but not by much, and this is one of the biggest things holding back the growth and success of Thai schools.

My office in 2013 was untrained and inexperienced, a collection of fresh-out-of-college twenty-somethings with limited structure and guidance. A few teachers with some experience were who we could look up to, but even they didn’t have the training or resources to let that experience trickle down. I was too inexperienced and too immature to seek that out, and so my first year was spent like many others in the office, focused on the weekends rather than the days in front of me. The salary didn’t help. The office culture didn’t help. But I don’t want to make excuses. I didn’t prioritise the work, and that’s on me.

The Builders

The point I’m trying to make is that Thai schools attract the inexperienced and the immature, and until the job is made viable through increased salaries, this will always be the case. Thank God then, for the builders.

The builders, as I touched on in an Instagram post, are people who don’t need to be motivated by a salary. It’s in their DNA to make a place better than they found it. Among the teachers who needed direction, there were the few who led by example. Throughout my time at the school, both as a teacher and as a leader, these were the people who inspired me and ultimately made the school what it is today. Luckily, one of these people was my next boss. His enthusiasm for what could be drew people toward him, and from him I learned how important it is to set the tone as a leader. He wasn’t the only one, but he brought the naturally inspired together and gave others the space to become those kinds of people.

Within two years of his leadership, we collected more and more people who began to work toward something, rather than just existing in what was. Subject syllabi began to take form, classroom behaviour structures were implemented across classes and grade levels, and a belief in the importance of the education we were providing became our drive.

Leadership and Momentum

I’m sure these kinds of people exist everywhere, but we relied on their existence to grow as a school. No one joined us to make money. So it was either they were there to build, or they were there to coast. Years where we had a majority of builders were wildly successful. We started multiple projects, events, and initiatives that grew our Program at an exponential rate. Years where we gained more complainers, slackers, and agitators, we lost steam, and our growth slowed or regressed.

It’s unsustainable to rely on the builders because the nature of low salaries means they eventually need to move on. And our selection of new teachers was always a gamble. In my first years as a leader at the school, I was blessed with a team of teachers who embodied this growth mindset. We expanded our reading program, began fleshing out our extra English program, and reworked syllabi and curriculum to better meet the level of our students. I was inspired and hopeful for what we would do next. And then COVID hit.

The Disruption of COVID

Decision-making from the higher-ups was always something to contend with. As much as we would have liked to exist independently within the Thai school, we were always part of something bigger. That larger system was shaped by Thai culture and by parental expectations. Whatever we did within our English Program had to be bent and shaped to fit what parents wanted. And what they wanted was preparedness for testing.

Testing for each unit, each week, end of term, end of year, for graduating kindergarten, entry to high school, and government standardised tests. This wouldn’t be a problem in itself if the tests were helpful measures of the students’ abilities, but more often than not they were random spelling words, strange grammar, and just generally poorly written or thought-out English exams. But you made do. We found ways to teach phonics, conversation, and writing while incorporating the random tests that plagued the years.

The Challenge of Adaptation

That is, most of us did. The number one reason teachers talk negatively about their time in Thai schools is their inability to let go of how they think things should be and adapt to how things are. Every year would be the same: a bunch of new teachers come in and complain about everything. There’s too much work. They’re too busy for school events. They think the expectations are stupid (sometimes they are). They did things differently at their old school. Their students are too badly behaved. Bla bla bla bla.

Year after year you hear the same thing from teachers who think they’re the first to ever experience these challenges, the first to ever bring their complaints to your desk. Newer teachers struggle with the school system at first, and while some of it is warranted, a large part is because you just have people who can’t adapt and don’t want to work.

Luckily, most of the time, you see rapid growth in new teachers. They begin to truly be flexible, understand the culture, and see the opportunity beneath the chaos. Like myself, they may not start out as ideal teachers, but with enough patience they grow to understand and become essential parts of the school unit.

Toxic Personalities and HR Challenges

In a small school, in a small city, we have to work together if we actually want to achieve something with our time. We used to run school workshops on lesson planning, behaviour management, cultural understanding, additional language support. The documentation and presentations were all there to give teachers the best chance at becoming valuable members of the school.

This was not always the case. Some years, the balance of the office was thrown off by uniquely volatile personalities. Their penchant for misery was so strong that they affected those around them. Every decision was seen as an unspeakable horror committed upon them, and something they believed everyone else needed to witness. Now, remembering that we always had a team of relatively fresh teachers, a constant batch of never-worked-before newbies and personalities that didn’t necessarily do work very well, the painfully afflicted teachers often found a susceptible audience.

Workplace bullying was an issue that would semi-frequently rise up. Teachers would place blame on their Head Teachers for every decision that didn’t go their way. I was forced to draw up social media policies and introduce stricter HR guidelines for complaints and how to address them. I would mediate communication breakdowns fueled by a complete misunderstanding of what being a teacher actually means.

No, it doesn’t mean you only teach your classes. No, you aren’t the most important person in the school. No, your feelings are not going to make our school director change their mind.

It was infuriating and tiresome, but for the most part, we would find resolution. It was the biggest challenge of my time at the school, and as hard as it was, it was also where I learned the most. I learned people need to be listened to. I learned we should always acknowledge our part in conflict. And I learned that some people are just plain awful.

Surviving COVID and Its Fallout

COVID was a disaster for many industries, but I think the damage it did to young students will be illuminated in the years to come. Students were forced to stay at home for online classes, but they and we were underprepared for what that would mean. While the actual workload for the individual teacher became much less at our school, we simply didn’t have the means to be effective online teachers.

We did our best. Some of my teachers were actually phenomenal with what they managed to achieve, with little support and no clear path of what we were supposed to accomplish. Nevertheless, two major things ended up happening. First, student enrollment dropped significantly. Parents were unwilling to pay regular school fees for online classes. This put great strain on the school and forced decisions that teachers didn’t appreciate.

Second, teachers who had planned to leave were now stuck in their jobs. So when COVID restrictions finally lifted, we had to replace a big chunk of experienced teachers all at once. This left a vacuum and broke the system we had of sharing experience and mindset with new hires.

Rebuilding, Reflecting, and Letting Go

Post-COVID, the engine of the school fell out. It would be some time before I realised it, or could start putting the parts back together.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom during these times. Hiring had certainly become harder. More people were reluctant to leave their home countries, and Thailand’s low salaries were starting to look bleak in comparison to our neighbours. But we still managed to collect enough of the builders to keep us moving forward.

Unfortunately, class sizes remained wrecked. We had fought so hard to keep classes below 25, but due to falling enrollment we were forced to combine some classes. They became behemoths at 30 students. Still manageable for experienced teachers, but a challenge for those still learning, and near impossible for teachers who simply didn’t want to.

Budget decisions became tighter. Tensions became more frequent. The antagonisers were rising. I didn’t have the pool of people I needed to steady the ship. The captains had abandoned their posts, and I suddenly felt very alone, leading a school with so many new faces, many of them with frowns.

There was some joy in rebuilding the programs of pre-COVID. A few valuable teachers helped me stay optimistic through their boundless love for the students and the job. I probably learned the most here about how to balance the business side of the school while keeping the staff happy enough to avoid outright revolt.

We established new structures. I added pages to the handbooks and orientations. Each issue became something to solve, and I still believe it made us stronger. Unfortunately, by keeping my head down on what I could fix, I ignored what I couldn’t.

I believe what we have built at the school is more resilient than any destructive year. The work is there. The syllabi. The workshops. The plans and the resources are locked in. And I am so proud of what all the builders have left behind for the teachers to come.

But it took one year to make me forget that for a little while.

It was in my final years at the school where I was faced with the most destructive combination of personalities. Empathy, compassion and communication, which had been such a big part of what had helped us grow to this point were all thrown out to cater to pride, selfishness and immaturity. Negativity festered around lunch tables, conspiracy theories hatched over the smallest of decisions and petty social media posts attacked the imagined enemies to their cause.

These are challenging moments because it’s here, when you want to put your walls up the most, that you need to question yourself the most. Are their (unvoiced) concerns justified? Could I have approached that better? Is part of this a failing of my leadership? The answers are never black and white. What I found helpful was asking instead: Have they acknowledged their role in the conlfict? Have they offered solutions? Have they remained professional? These answers are easier and I think can provide you with a clearer idea of the intentions behind the unrest and how you should approach them.

I was yelled at. I was insulted. I was disrespected. I can tell you that staring at the literal decade of work that I had seen poured into the school, that I myself had given to the school, it was a hard pill to swallow. There is so much I would have done differently now, but I know that because of what I learned through the final years with the school. As a leader I learned boundaries and direct action are as important as openness and solution-orientated approaches. As someone looking at what makes a Thai school great, it’s in making sure you always have a strong base of builders to be an example of what you can achieve if you have the correct mindset.

I started my time there in chaos, both in myself and with the system we had to work within. During the hardest times at the school I almost forgot both how far we had come, and how the most important thing is to focus on the people who share your goal of creating. I was still surrounded by inspirational teachers, people who continue to improve upon the systems we created, who are student focused and recognise just how special the environment we created at the school was for making a lasting impact in their lives. I had to let go of the resentment and the hurt, and instead remember the people who are actually important and how significant the school had been for those of us who wanted to make a difference.

Resolution

I spent the last year of my time at the school with this mindset of focusing on the people who wanted to make a difference, and the core of what we had created. I expanded the documentation and the syllabi to give those who come after me the best chance of doing what I couldn’t. While the salaries are low we can never have a team of professional, trained teachers, and that will mean we’re always on the brink of one bad year. That’s why it’s so important to make sure you can weather those storms. The syllabi and lesson plans need to be fool-proof, the job expectations need to be crystal clear and you have to give power to the people who care.

I failed a lot. I wasn’t experienced enough to handle it all perfectly. But I think I also left the school in a better place than it was when I started and that’s maybe about as much as you can hope for. I look back at my time with such appreciation for the people I met, the experiences it allowed me to have and the growth I went through. The antagonisers will fade from memory, the silly bureaucratic decisions will be something to laugh at and the struggles will become lessons that will guide my way in the future. What will remain is twelve years of pure intention, inspiring teachers and the knowledge that the students benefited from the hard fought effort we all put in.

Final Thoughts

Working at Thai schools comes with its challenges and its triumphs, its highs and its lows, but if you find the right one it’s possible to be a part of something that will change your life, and the lives of the students who benefit from your care and dedication. It’s not a path for everyone, but I couldn’t be more grateful for the lessons I’ve learned, the people I’ve met and the direction it has set my life towards.

What I learned, more than anything, is that schools, like people, are always a work in progress. They are never perfect, never finished, and never without challenge. But they are also never without hope, and never without the potential to be better tomorrow than they were yesterday. They are built and rebuilt by the people within them. If you’re lucky, you’ll find yourself surrounded by those who want to create, not just complain. And if you’re really lucky, you become one of them.