I read the recent letters about grammar and felt compelled to chip in, mainly because, for the first two years I was teaching English in Thailand, I didn’t actually know what a gerund was. I still don’t, really. But somehow, my students learned.

Here’s my honest opinion: we’ve overcomplicated this job. Not every foreign teacher is a linguist or a grammar wizard nor do they need to be. Teaching English isn’t about knowing every clause, tense, and conditional. It’s about giving students confidence. Making them feel comfortable enough to say something out loud in class without worrying they’re going to get verbally karate-chopped for using “have” instead of “has”.

Do I teach grammar now? Yes — in small doses, when it makes sense, and preferably with bad drawings on the whiteboard. But it’s never the main dish. It’s more of a side salad. Language is about connection. Not correction. And for the record: I looked up 'gerund' last week. It still sounds made up to me.

Peter

I read Katie’s recent Postbox letter on grammar with interest (26th July 2025). As a Thai teacher of English, I agree with many of her points, especially about students being afraid to speak. But I also want to explain why grammar is still such a big deal in our schools.

When I was a student, English wasn’t something you learned to use. It was something you learned to pass. Grammar exercises. Fill-in-the-blank tests. Memorise this rule. Translate that sentence. Get the right answer, move on to the next part. Like solving a maths problem. We weren’t encouraged to speak. In fact, we almost never did. Speaking was too challenging and unpredictable. Grammar, on the other hand, had rules - and rules meant pass marks. So it became the whole focus. No one cared if you could or couldn't hold a conversation. They cared if you got 9 out of 10 on the past tense section.

Now, as a teacher, I try to be different. I want my students to speak, to try, to make mistakes. But it’s hard to undo years of fear. Students still panic when they get it wrong. They still think “wrong grammar” means “bad English.” Because that’s what they were taught, and what their parents were taught too. So while I agree with Katie that communication is the goal, I also think we have to understand the history behind the fear. Thai students don’t hate English. They just don’t want to be embarrassed. And grammar - for better or worse - has always been the part they were judged and passed or failed on.

We need to change that, yes. But it will take time and patience. And maybe fewer red pens.

Ajarn Nittaya, Samut Prakan

I’ve been teaching English in Thailand for several years, and if there’s one thing I hear constantly from both foreign teachers and Thai teachers, it’s that students “don’t know any grammar” Usually followed by a groan and some version of “They can’t even use the past tense properly.” And yes, grammar’s important. I’m not saying we throw the rulebook out the window and let students freestyle their way through every sentence. No one wants to hear “He go to yesterday party beach” and have to decode it like a cryptic crossword. But here’s the thing - students are terrified of grammar. And a lot of that fear comes from how we teach it.

They’re drilled on tenses, forced to memorise irregular verbs like they’re studying for a police interrogation, and made to feel like making a single mistake is the end of the world. Result? They freeze up. They won’t speak. They’d rather say nothing than get it wrong. I’ve seen students who know the grammar, but won’t say a word in class because they’re terrified their sentence won’t be “perfect” I’ve also met students who speak fluently and confidently - even if their grammar is a bit dodgy. And guess what? People understand them.

Should we teach grammar? Of course. But it’s not the holy grail. It’s a tool and not the goal. The goal is communication. Being understood. Having the confidence to express yourself, even if your subject-verb agreement is a bit wonky now and then. Let’s stop turning grammar into a mountain students are afraid to climb. Let them make mistakes. Let them talk. The rules will follow - just maybe not in Unit 3, Week 2, Page 14.

Katie

I’ve done over a dozen of these English camps at various schools across Thailand, and I’ve come to a firm conclusion: English camps are not about English. Not really. They’re about photo ops, wearing a cowboy hat indoors, and pretending that letting M4 students play “Pin the Tail on the Adjective” counts as curriculum development.

Every camp starts the same way - a painfully long opening ceremony where I’m asked to “say a few words” with no warning and no microphone. Then comes the parade of “fun stations,” each one flimsier than the last. I’ve seen a "Spelling Bee" that turned into musical chairs halfway through, a cooking station where no one spoke a word of English but we did eat sausages, and a quiz game where the answer to every question was “London.”

My team once set up an activity where students had to ask for directions. It lasted five minutes before they got bored and turned the props into swords.

The Thai teachers? Lovely people, but they vanish the moment the music starts. You’ll find them in the shade, sipping iced coffee and scrolling Facebook, occasionally popping up to tell you to “make it more fun.” Look, I understand the idea. I’m not against camps in theory. But let’s not kid ourselves - this is not how you teach a language. It’s how you give students a day off without calling it a holiday.

If we’re going to keep doing these, let’s at least be honest. Call it an “English-themed school party”. That way I can stop pretending my team’s three-legged race is developing anyone’s vocabulary.

Christopher

This is a cautionary tale. Not about lesson planning or visa runs or how to survive a school show while dressed as a panda. No, this is about something far more dangerous: pissing off the Thai admin staff in your first week. I’ve been at my school for three years. Three. Long. Years. The students know me, the parents like me, the director shakes my hand at every ceremony (mostly because he thinks I’m someone else, but still). On paper, I’m settled. But there’s one wound that never healed: Admin Office, Level 2.

Let me take you back to my first week. I’d just landed the job. New shirt, shiny shoes, full of that foreign-teacher confidence. I went into the admin office to ask about my contract. No wai. No smile. Just a classic farang power-walk and a “Hi, can someone help me with my visa paperwork?” Big mistake. Massive.

I didn’t know then, but I’d walked into the lion’s den holding a steak. There was a hierarchy, there was etiquette, and there was Auntie May at the front desk, who controls all things from photocopies to budget reimbursements. And I had just walked in like I was ordering a sandwich. Since that day, it’s been a cold war of small but painful moments.

Need thirty photocopies of a worksheet? “Oh, very busy today.”
Need a stamp for your re-entry permit? “Must ask director. He not here.”
Turned in your monthly lesson plan? “I never receive. Maybe you send wrong email.” (Which is code for: “We deleted it.”)

I’ve tried to make peace. I’ve smiled, I’ve brought snacks, I even wai-ed the office fish tank for good luck. But it’s too late. My face is burned into the back of their minds as “the rude farang who didn’t wai Auntie May in 2018.” That’s my legacy.

So here’s my advice to any new teacher arriving at a Thai school. Make friends with the admin staff immediately. Learn their names. Wai everyone. Compliment someone’s hair. Bring fruit. Smile like your paycheck depends on it - because, in many ways, it actually does. You can mess up a lesson. You can even mess up your visa paperwork. But mess up with admin? That follows you like a lost dog for years.

Don’t be me.

Neil (still waiting for photocopies)

I’m a foreign recruiter. Not an agency. I work for one actual school - a decent bilingual setup in a respectable part of Thailand. We pay fairly, we treat people well, and we don’t do any of that “holding your passport in a drawer” nonsense. All I want in life is to find a few solid teachers who can show up on time, speak in complete sentences, and not disappear the night before an English Camp. That’s it. And yet every hiring season, my inbox turns into a jungle of confusion, entitlement, and people who clearly haven’t read past the first three words of the job ad.

Let me walk you through a typical day:

Ad says “Must have a degree”.
Reply: “Hi, I didn’t go to university, but I did a two-week online TEFL course and I’m passionate about language.”
That’s great, but passion won’t get you a work permit, mate.

Ad says “We do not provide housing”.
Reply: “Can you send photos of the free apartment?”
What free apartment? Did you imagine it?

Ad says “Must be currently in Thailand”.
Reply: “I’m in Brazil, can I Zoom teach until my visa comes?”
No, but I can recommend an agency that might find that idea charming.

Ad says “Job is in Nakhon Pathom”.
Reply: “Is that near BTS?”
Near? No. On the same planet? Yes.

But it’s not just the readers. The applicants are wild. I’ve had CVs with shirtless photos taken on the beach. CVs with "Life Coach" listed as previous teaching experience. One bloke applied for the same job four times using four different Gmail accounts. He misspelled his own name differently in each one. I get asked if payday is negotiable. I get people who ask what grade they’ll be teaching and then say “Oh, I don’t do children under 12.” Mate, the ad says Kindergarten. It literally says “be ready to sing the Wheels on the Bus on command.”

Look, I’m not asking for superheroes. Just read the ad. If you qualify, apply. If you don’t, don’t. And if you do get the job, show up. That’s all. I didn’t become a recruiter to suffer. I became a recruiter because I foolishly believed I could be the change I wanted to see in the Thai education system. Turns out, I just wanted a quiet life and now I’m explaining, for the ninth time today, that "Non-B is not a type of vitamin."

Mark

I’ve been teaching in Thailand for ten years now. Government schools, language centers, the odd corporate gig, and one forgettable year early on at a 'boutique international school' that was really just a converted townhouse with a Union Jack painted on the wall.

When I first arrived, I was that guy - fresh off the TEFL course, full of laminated flashcards and boundless enthusiasm. I was going to change lives, inspire young minds, bridge cultures. You know, all the usual clichés people post on Facebook when they land at Suvarnabhumi with a backpack and a dream. Ten years later, I teach from a chair. I don’t stand anymore unless someone’s on fire or there's cake in the staffroom. I no longer care about 'engaging activities' or 'student-centred learning'. I care about the air-con working and whether the printer has ink. (It doesn’t. It never does.)

What happened? It wasn’t one big thing. Just a thousand little ones. Unpaid overtime. Vague contracts. Schools that ask you to smile more when a parent screams at you for giving their child a B+. Being told to teach a lesson on Shakespeare to a class of M2s who can barely spell their own name in English. The never-ending loop of school shows, rice planting days, and photo-taking marathons that somehow matter more than actual education. And don’t get me started on the parade of new foreign hires. The ones who last two weeks, realise this isn’t Bali, and disappear mid-semester, leaving me to cover their classes and listen to the director say, “Can you just help a little bit, only for now?”

But still, I stay. Maybe I’m too lazy to move. Maybe I’ve got too much stuff now to be a backpacker again. Or maybe, deep down, I still love the chaos - the kind of chaos where nothing makes sense, but everything somehow gets done. Anyway, if you’re new to Thailand and reading this, take it from a grizzled old farang: lower your expectations, raise your tolerance, and keep your passport handy. You’ll need at least one of those to survive.

Martin

When I arrived in Thailand nearly 10 years ago, getting a job with a temporary teaching license, work permit and visa was relatively easy. Then, the Thai authorities decided that documents needed to be notarized (or apostilled as some countries call it), and this added another pretty expensive hoop to jump through. I did it and managed to get another job...only to be told two years later that I simply MUST register for an expensive PGCE to continue working. I did that. I registered for the PGCE and completed it in 2020 only for the authorities to decide that any PGCE done after 2019 is not eligible for the 5 year teaching license. Now I either have to study on Saturdays outside of Bangkok or do the KSP 7 modules, despite already having the PGCE that I was told to do.

Well, this is awkward.

Steve

There are days when I wake up feeling completely exhausted not just physically, but emotionally and mentally. I carry a weight that doesn’t seem to go away, no matter how hard I try to stay positive. Due to political unrest and the effects of the pandemic, I couldn’t finish my university degree. I didn’t choose to stop. The situation made it impossible. I had dreams big ones but everything changed so fast, and I had to find a way to survive instead.

In the midst of that, I discovered teaching English. It became more than a job to me it was a calling. For more than five years, I’ve worked as an English teacher. I’ve taught different students, adapted to different needs, and continued growing. I even earned a teaching license through MOOC, and currently work as a part-time online teacher at an English center. But despite all that, people still don’t believe in me.

It hurts more than I can say. No matter how passionate or committed I am, the lack of recognition and trust from others has slowly chipped away at my confidence. Sometimes I ask myself: Am I even good enough anymore? I know I’ve helped students. I know I’ve worked hard. But the doubt around me makes me doubt myself, too. I dream of teaching in Thailand - a country I love deeply. But without a formal degree, without strong backing, and without anyone willing to give me a real chance, it feels impossible. I can’t go back to my country. It’s not safe, and the chaos there only adds to my hopelessness. So here I am, stuck in between worlds—trying to hold on to hope while everything inside me screams to give up.

I’m sharing this not for sympathy, but because I know I’m not alone. Maybe someone else out there is going through the same thing - working so hard but feeling invisible, fighting for a future while the present keeps trying to crush them. If you’re reading this and you’re struggling too, please know that you’re not alone. And even if we don’t have all the answers yet, we still have our voice. I still believe that someday, someone will see the value in what we’ve gone through and what we can give.

Until then, I’ll keep trying to hold on. Written with an open heart by someone who still dares to believe, even in the middle of doubt. Should i just change the career or just give up on everything ?

Robert

I am a Thai teacher and I have worked at a government school in Isaan for many years already. I want to write something from my heart about foreign teachers who come to work in Thailand now. Many young foreign teachers come with bad attitude. They say they love Thai culture, but then they complain about everything. They complain school is hot. They complain students are noisy. They complain we have meeting too much. Every day they complain something.

Sometimes I feel sad. Because as Thai teachers, we try to help. We say "never mind", we try to explain slowly, we help them understand student name or culture. But some foreign teacher don’t want to understand. They say “this is not how we do things in my country”. I want to ask — then why you come here? One teacher say to me before, “I just want to travel, teaching is not important.” I feel shocked. You teach students! You have a big responsibility. Thai students are not perfect, but they try. If you don’t care, students feel that. They know when teacher does not want to be there.

And please don’t think Thai teacher do nothing. Maybe we don’t walk around school with big voice like some foreign teacher, but we do many thing. We write report, we go to meeting, we plan events, we take care of student problems. Foreign teacher teach maybe 16 class. Thai teacher teach 20 class and still must go and stand in the sun for gate duty every morning.

I just want to say if you come to Thailand, come with a good heart. Come to learn also, not only to teach. Respect Thai culture, respect student, respect teacher. And if you don’t like Thai people or Thai way, maybe better you go home. With hope for better understanding,

Ajarn Ploy