Best Moments in My Life

After my second conversation class with the high school students, I had a phone call with Sai. While making a PowerPoint for the next class and talking, I casually asked her, “Who do you consider a good teacher?” Like any typical high school student, she said that a good teacher is someone kind and compassionate who listens to the students and their problems and answers students' questions without getting angry or frustrated when the students ask, and truly understands their needs.

I have been a teacher for seven years; during this time and years, I have taught and trained hundreds of government and private sector officials, high school students, and even kindergarteners, despite my dislike for singing and dancing. I spent five years teaching in high school, where my students grew fond of me. Although I've moved on from that school, my former students continue to reach out, requesting thirty minutes to an hour of my time to practice speaking English with me.

Even though I have officially been a teacher for seven years, my journey began when I started telling and sharing stories with Sri Lankan children at the age of 13. I quickly gained popularity among the schools in our district, and when I left Sri Lanka, I was touched to see thousands of children come to bid me farewell or see me off at the temple, giving me pens, books, and pencils. By the end of that day, I went to my home country with over a thousand pens and pencils.

After my conversation with Sai, I checked my Facebook album and came across a letter I received from my students in Nakhon Nayok. Her name was Khing (ginger in English).

She was one of the most exceptional and quiet students in the class. As an introvert myself, depending on the situation and environment, though, and a curious boy with a massive interest in psychological literature or books, I found myself intrigued by her behavior. However, I refrained from asking about her personal life, believing it would be impolite to do that.

One day, during the conversation class, I had a plethora of questions prepared for my students about their likes, dislikes, and agreeing and disagreeing. I remember one question: “What scares you the most?” Khing responded that it was people. When I asked more, she told me that when she goes to crowded places, she feels as though someone is chasing after her or watching her, which leads to feelings of nervousness and anxiety. I wanted to ask more, but there were fifty students in the classroom, and I needed to focus on all of them and ask at least one. Instead, I asked a few more questions related to her social anxieties, and she answered everything.

The following day, I planned to grab a cup of black coffee to shake off my sleepiness. I met Khing at the coffee shop and asked, “How are you?” She replied, “Not too bad.” Since we were at the school coffee shop, I felt it was okay to talk. As a former monk, however, I still felt uneasy about speaking with female students, especially when there weren't many others around.

She shared a lot about herself, including her family background and her experiences with social anxiety.

I would listen to her, and we often would meet at the coffee shop.

I may not be a psychology student or a psychologist, but I had meaningful conversations and shared countless experiences with her. I often opened up about my struggles with social anxiety. Initially, she was a bit shy to start a conversation, greeting me hesitantly. However, by the end of the year, she had warmed up to me, and we began playing volleyball together and occasionally badminton. Similar to Khing, many of my students gifted me small, adorable teddy bears when we ended the course, and I still keep in touch with them via Facebook Messenger. Some have gone on to become nurses, soldiers, and teachers, while others are now working in banks.

I genuinely feel happy whenever they share their pictures with me on Facebook or Line.

A few days ago, one of the students asked me to help her edit her paperwork at the office, and I did.