Whai Kru

Today was Whai - Kru Day at school. This is the traditional act of obeisance on the part of the students toward the teachers. The phrase, "Whai - Kru" means respect to teachers.  In this "Phi - Thee" (means ceremony), which takes several days to bring into being, the students practice songs and gather flowers. Each class creates a configuration of flowers in a pedestal bowl. These are ornate and highly stylized colors and shapes.

Then the students clean the school from top to bottom. On the day of the ceremony, they come to our offices and bow before the chosen teachers. They sing songs of appreciation, present her or him with flowers to wear or to carry. The necklaces I wear are made of "Horm" (fragrant) "Dok Ma-li" (Jasmine blossoms). The Thais present gifts often and they take great store in acts of kindness. I was moved to tears when some of my students presented me with several necklaces. Then I was taken even more aback when an entire class came and sang to me on their knees. They were weeping and I was weeping. They said, "teacher, we love you." I could only reply that I loved them. I can't remember when I have been so moved.

During the second part of the day, a "Phi - Thee" is held in the big hall. The younger students play traditional Chinese instruments as the hall fills with students. There is a pageantry to this ceremony unlike anything that we experience in the West. The older students and the class leaders carry the ornate flower arrangements up the stairs where teachers sit on a dais. They present the arrangements to each teacher and in return we offer them an "Auy Pon" (a blessing). Then each child drops to their knees and presses their face to the floor. Wave after wave, the smaller children come, each bearing a small bouquet of flowers wrapped in banana leaf, in a cone shape. They offer these flowers to the teachers and like the leaders before them, they bow to the floor.

After the ceremony, the children continue to bring flowers, to kneel and sing songs to their teachers. They are often weeping and they hug their teachers in a burst of affection.  The older students visit former teachers and sit at their feet. These acts are voluntary.  I do not know what to make of such humility, except that these lavish displays of love are humbling for the recipient, and they cause the bond between the teacher and the student to deepen. When one of my students said, with tears in her eyes, "I love you," I touched her cheek with my hand and spoke words I never thought I'd say to a student: "I love you too."  And I do love them, as they demand that I love them. They are needy and poor.  They are children and they require a fierce, protective love.  This, I will give them. It's the least any of us can do.

The Thai students are endearing in so many ways. There are far too many of them in one class room, and they misbehave with the same frequency as any students, anywhere. Yet they are also sincere and joyful. This culture expresses itself in other humbling ways. The children are affectionate with each other, often walking arm-in-arm together, singing songs together, the way we did when I was small. They are also affectionate with the adults.

No, I didn't need to be up on that dais. My ego did not swell with power or satisfaction at a child's act of contrition and obeisance. On the contrary, I was moved to tears by so many children trying to please their elders. The West has exported its technology, its fashions, its modes of transportation, skateboard rites-of-passage, and Lady Gaga, but it has not yet succeeded in making Thai children cynical. They are precious, bright and affectionate, and when allowed to be, they are innocent in the extreme. This experience also asks me to consider how it might appear to God when His children willingly humble themselves before Him. I can tell you, from my perspective, it's irresistible.

No, we don't operate like this in the West. We wouldn't consider humbling ourselves before others -- it's out of the question. We're splendidly over-sanitized, a p.c. society that's dying of loneliness. We'd sooner live out our lives in isolation than risk the blank stare that's sure to follow if we ever offered our ritual respect, or lived transparently for that matter. So be it. We've made our beds and just as inevitably, we will lie in them.

Conversely, the Thais have so much community that it makes my head hurt most days. I want nothing more than to shut the door, hole up in my cave, and tap out messages on computer keys, my virtual security blanket. All the while, they're chatting up a storm, eating who knows what from some questionable communal bowl, and beating the living daylights out of each other. We Westerners foster our illusions of family closeness, community connectedness, and respect for one another, but the truth is, we aren't respectful, we're merely uninterested. There's a huge difference. We pretend that we're an egalitarian society, but that's simply not so. One has to care enough to bother asking questions or answering them. We don't care, we don't have to. End of report. We're polite enough that's for sure, but concern ends in 37 seconds, because we've got somewhere else to go, other people to meet. We prefer our illusions of order, and we rationalize about our boundaries until we've negated every human with whom we ever come into contact.

Today I was humbled by child-like obedience to an ages old tradition of respect for one's elders. The thing took several days to accomplish, and hours to sit through. But my students were touched that I cared enough to show up. Their song made it well worth my while.